World Cup, Acqua Alta

I watched Italy's first World Cup match not at my apartment, not downtown with thousands of people in front of a huge projector screen. I was with two friends in my teacher program at a local bar (Piazza San Jacopino) with 60 year-old men and their grandsons.

In the streets are butts of cigarettes, broken bottle-glass and ticket stubs of busses, trains and concerts. All glazed with a city dust that creeps under doors at night with the mosquitoes.

During the day, my apartment is so quiet. Six hours before I give my lesson, I eat lunch to the hum of the fridge. I'm looking for a radio to fill in the cobwebbed corners with some kind of dialect that was already musical before it sang a song, one that was popular 30 years ago.

My teaching program's school, "The Learning Center of Tuscany," has a break room. Inside it is a coffee machine that has probably earned more of my money than the local bus system. There is a microwave, but no fridge. On top of it, there's a bottle of balsamic vinegar.

Sending letters is worth the effort. It is a struggle in today's over-ramped techno-world. But sending a letter in Italy is a herculean effort (bet you like that classical reference). The post office is like a waiting room that also happens to mail stuff. Oh, and sometimes, a package arrives on time. I recently mailed a letter to NC State at the local post office. They made me buy 10 envelopes, so give me an address, I'll write you a letter from Italy.

Today I finally got my radio. It cost 25 euro, but it's well worth it for the fun we have in lesson plan preparation. Can't wait to bring it home.

Vespas are not really vehicles, I've decided. They're more like shoes. Let me explain. The paths people take while riding a vespa are no different from the paths people take while walking. You'd cut across that sidewalk to the other road on foot, and so you'll cut across that sidewalk to the other road on a vespa. Which means if someone's gonna bump into you, you gonna get nailed. By a vespa windshield.

Something weird happened today. I went out to lunch with some kids in my program, and it started raining really hard. Hail, in fact. That's not as weird as what happened later, when we got up to go back to the school and found about six inches of water on the ground outside. We stood with a group of orange-vested construction workers and waited a couple of seconds. My friends tied plastic bags around their feet, and braved the high water. I waited for the water to go down before going back. Didn't wanna mess up my nice shoes.

-a