Arrival in Italy

What a journey this has been already.

My father, mother, sister and I left Baltimore around 6 PM on Thursday evening for Dulles International Airport. After waiting for over an hour to check-in, I kissed my family goodbye and proceeded to travel without any delays--a first for me.

I had the pleasure of sitting next to a friendly girl my age from South Africa. I asked if she was an Afrikaner--white descendants of Dutch settlers in the 17th century who came to power in the 20th century. When she said yes, I smiled and held up the book The Long Walk to Freedom: The Autobiography of Nelson Mandela, which details his struggle against apartheid. She, Estelle, just giggled.

My trip included a layover in London from about 10:30 AM to 12:30 PM on Friday. As I arrived at my terminal, a student from University of Maryland approached me. His name is Nick and we met at an orientation some months ago. He was also heading for Viterbo, but his flight would be a few hours after mine.

On my flight to Rome I sat next to a couple who made Rome their home a few years ago. I also met a girl named Eleanora who has just returned home to Rome after a year of travelling all over the world. Eleanora listed a few spots in Rome for me to visit after I am settled.

I landed in Rome at about 4:30 PM, incredibly thankful for no more airplanes. My mother insisted that I bring three large bags with me, which I nearly cursed upon picking up, knowing that I would have to drag them for at least three hours before getting to Viterbo. The international pay phone would not accept my Visa so I could not call home to let my parents know I landed. I know my mother must have been--as we say in Yiddish--verklempt.

Getting to Viterbo was not easy. I speak very little Italian at this point, requiring me to depend on the kindness and patient of strangers; some speaking broken English, some just smiling and trying their best. Two trains later, I sat next to a man who graduated from George Washington University--where I attended for one year--in 1993. We discussed American politics for a bit, and though he lauded President-Elect Obama's history making election, he noted it odd that a call for change included half of President Clinton's inner circle. He then added that any change from President Bush was welcome. The man, whose name escapes me at the moment, gave me his business card and insisted that I join him and his wife for dinner when I return to Rome.

The second train I caught to Viterbo felt like an eternity. It was after 6 PM in Italy, but between the time change, my irregular sleeping habits, and the weariness of travel I dozed off at least ten times on this two-hour train ride. Shortly before the train arrived, I enlisted the help of a girl, Francesca, in helping me find my hotel. Francesca spoke absolutely no English and I spoke barely any Italian, but she was polite and patient and helped me find my hotel. She also left her number in my journal and I promised not to call before improving my Italian.

I checked in to my hotel, the Hotel Balleti Palace, and immediately joined my group for a delicious dinner of rice (almost nearly the way my dad has prepared before) and a type of pasta I had never eaten before. I introduced myself to a table of fellow students, all American. One other girl, Felicia, was Jewish; nearly all of them from the west coast.

After dinner I sent an email to my parents and went to my room. I took a much-needed shower, got in bed, and watched CNN International; the only station in English. Though CSI: Miami was tempting, it was dubbed in Italian and I lost patience quickly. Most of the news reported on the conflict between Israel and Gaza. It was incredibly biased, no Israelis were interviewed and there was barely any mention of the thirty rockets fired into Israel on Friday. I was not surprised until CNN reported that University of Florida beat Oklahoma in the BCS title game. What surprised me was not the outcome--I knew Oklahoma was no match for Florida's defense--but that it was reported by a British reporter who seemed to have little understanding of the game. Touchdown sounds funny in a British accent.

Within a half hour, Nick (the fellow I met in London) arrived. He barely caught the last train to Viterbo, almost having to find a hostel in Rome. He showered and left to use the Internet. I fell asleep.

I awoke some time later. Nick was in his bed and I had no idea what time it was. None of my adapters fit Italian electric sockets and so I could not charge my cell nor plug in my alarm clock. I came downstairs to use the Internet, discovering that it was about 6 AM. I received an email reply from my parents and news that Mayor Sheila Dixon of Baltimore has been indicted. ''Good,'' I thought. I was worried Baltimore was lagging behind the national average in corrupt politicians. Take that Chicago!

-Saturday, January 10, 2009 - 7:30 AM