My roommates want to kill me, we probably have bed bugs and my hands smell perpetually of garlic. I’ll explain in sequence.
Arriving in Genova two weeks ago was a nightmare. I rode four hours on two different trains with my hiking backpack so packed that I had to squat down and lift up just to get it on my back, a smaller backpack strapped to my front and a bag that broke balanced in my arms.
Pro-tip: Having a backpack instead of a suitcase has been great and I would do it again. However, just remember not to try and pack your entire life in there or you will hate everyone and everything. Which is kind of what happened when I met one of my five new roommates – she thought I was going to be the worst person in the world to share a space with.
Who knows, maybe I am the worst person to live with, but at least my attitude has shifted back to normal since that hellish day. I’d just spent the previous 5 weeks in a medieval town learning Italian and had already adjusted to the culture. These fresh-faced roommates of mine rolled up thinking they were going to walk into Eat, Pray, Love and were sorely disappointed within the first 48 hours.
After attempting to eat out at multiple places and not being able to order correctly because of the language barrier, the girls were convinced that this was nothing like the movies. The food wasn’t what they expected and they hated it all. The streets, the people, the 13 flights of stairs to our apartment, the weather, the grocery lady. Everything. Not one to remain negative for long, I assured them that culture shock wears off and it gets easier. They just shook their heads and slept for the next fourteen hours to adjust to European time.
The second night found us tired and weary, but we quickly broke the ice by examining a ridiculous number of bug bites on two of the girls and realizing we might have a bed bug infestation. The next three hours were spent with flashlights and Google as we tried to see what to do if you have bed bugs. Amidst the chaos, I kept shouting, “It gets better!” because it does and I didn’t want them to think this was what their experience in Italy would consist of, but was quickly silenced by one of my roommates screaming, “Shut. UP. Katherine!”
After that things spiraled out of control. We slept uneasily that night, squirming in our possibly infested beds, and the girls were ready to take the first flight back to the States in the morning. Several terrible dinners, getting hopelessly lost, a water-balloon hate crime and two weeks later, the girls are doing just fine. Whenever something went wrong, I chimed in with a peppy, “It gets better!” and I have to say, I think I finally wore them down. I mean, check out that view from our apartment. Seriously?
We’ve learned a lot in two short weeks. We’ve learned what places to eat at and what places to avoid. We’ve learned that we don’t have bed bugs and we bought a mosquito net. We’ve learned that in order to cook anything here you need loads of garlic, which explains why my hands will never smell like anything else ever again. I’ve also taught them one of my favorite phrases in Italian, “Tutto bene,” which means “all is well.” Because all is well, and if it’s not, I promise it will be.
@TheChrony