Monday, September 12, 2011


I, Lindsay Rose Elizabeth Sheedy, have done the impossible: I have found an apartment that I ACTUALLY LIKE in Bologna. Absolutely unbelievable!

I’m choosing to live with Sara Gararro (or did she choose me?), an Italian opera singer in her late 20s, who is fabulous. Yes, it wasn’t my first choice, but it was a damn close second. The boys from my first choice apartment never got back to me, even after I emailed them, so I decided I wouldn’t dawdle any longer and make an offer to Sara. Thank God she accepted it, because I don’t know what I’d do otherwise.

The apartment is just outside the historic center of Bologna, just off a main street in a cute little apartment complex with cool door-knockers. It’s got two huge single rooms, one decently sized bathroom, a nice kitchen, and a small terrace. Since Sara is going to be gone for the first month that I’m there (in her place will be a med student who’s studying to be a heart surgeon), and I’m hoping that will give me time to make the apartment my own. For one, I already have plans to clean the kitchen. Don’t get me wrong, the apartment is SUPER clean compared to some I saw, but Sara’s been living in New York for the past year or so, so the apartment has just gotten a little out of shape. It’ll be nice to put some of my own personal touches on things, mostly because then I won’t feel like I’m a guest in someone else’s apartment. That won’t fly.

We started our pre-session, for which we are each paying $2,040 to attend (our teacher accidentally showed us the amount when she brought up a spread sheet). Meh, whatevs—it’s not like we can do anything about it. The teacher, Christine Dodd, is super cute. She makes the funniest facial expression and seems really, really nice.  Of the original 26, half of us are with Christine and the other half are with a woman named Clara. My group doesn’t go to the BCSP office but rather to a classroom at Unibo (University of Bologna) in the foreign language building. That building is like a freakin’ maze—you go up stairs only to have to go down stairs, you turn left twice and end up on a different floor than you were two seconds ago, classrooms seem to appear out of nowhere, there are doors within doors… it’s craziness.  I’m excited because tomorrow instead of class we get to go on another tour of Bologna, this time I think it’s more a cultural tour—mostly gastronomical, of course—and whatever I can get for free, I’m taking.

One day later:

So Dru thought that maybe we had bed bugs in our room. Naturally, I started FREAKING OUT. As most people know, I am a compulsive shower-taker and hold personal hygiene in the highest regard. I also don’t do bugs—I hate bugs. Ergo, I start having a minor freak out when Dru shows me that she has some bug bites (they look like mosquito bites), as does Jessica. As I examined my skin, I picked out about four teensy tiny red bumps on my arm and start having a MAJOR FREAK OUT, and was absolutely convinced that we had bed bugs, when it was probably just my hypochondria raging out of control. Of course, we told Danielle and Professor Ricci about our paranoia, and they in turn talked to the hotel… AND THEN OUR ROOM GOT FUMIGATED. Yup. We couldn’t go in our room for 5 hours because they had a machine that kills all bed bugs… BUT IT WAS JUST AS A PRECAUSION, they told us. COMMENCE LINDSAY SERIOUSLY FREAKING OUT TO THE POINT OF HEART ATTACK. While I understand why the hotel would take precautionary steps, it’s also somewhat disturbing that your room is being fumigated and that you’re advised—ONLY OUT OF PRECAUTION—to wash every single item of clothing you’ve brought to Italy and spray your suitcase with hydrogen peroxide.

Maybe I should note here that DRU AND I DO NOT ACTUALLY THINK WE HAVE BED BUGS, WE ARE MERELY PARANOID THAT WE MAY HAVE BED BUGS. Our rooms get cleaned every 2 days, our sheets and mattresses are pristine white, and almost all of Dru’s bites are on her legs, arms, and neck (all the places showing during waking hours, when we’re lah-lah-lahing our way around the piazza where mosquitoes lurk to bite our white asses).  Neither of us are actually convinced that we do.

The gastronomical tour this morning was a good time—and by good time I mean semi-interesting and somewhat delicious. It would have been totally delicious for anyone who loved meat… don’t get me wrong, I love a hamburger as much as the next person, but I can’t eat plain meat just as it is, which greatly limited my enjoying a plate of cold cuts… but seeing the various shops and markets was very interesting. I got some sweet pictures, though. My favorite part of the entire tour was when we stopped in Piazza Maggiore… Lucia, the tour guide, proceeded to talk about the history of the piazza, its historical and cultural significance, and other very thrilling stuff… while I proceeded to watch and snap pictures of a young boy chasing pigeons. In my defense, this kid was precious and very fly. He was wearing yellow shorts, a blue shirt, and a red backpack all whilst rocking a pair of sunglasses and gelled hair. Like Danielle noted, “I bambini si vestino come uomini piccoli” which more or less translates to “Little boys dress like men here.” Which is totes true.
So now I’m just chillin’, waiting for my room to get done fumigatin’.

How cute is this kid!?!?!

In other news, I went to COIN today, which is my new favorite store! It’s like William Sonoma, Gap, and Sephora had a baby… and that baby’s name is COIN. I had to get a bath towel, because there’s no way I’m walking around an apartment naked with some med student around. I mean, I don’t walk around naked to begin with, but you get my drift... I’ve used hand towels as bath towels one too many times, and I’ve learned my lesson. While I was at COIN, I also picked up a face towel, wash cloth (both of which were grayish beige with a very classy leopard print), a bottle of nail polish that was on sale for 1 Euro, a few plastic glasses for my toothbrush and stuff, and a bottle of nail polish remover. All necessities—obvs. 

This little piggy went to the market... and he be dead.
Penis pasta. A staple in one's diet.

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