Saturday, January 30, 2010

Bologna nightlife 1

“I don’t know you, but I love you.” An immortal quote made by a sleazy Brazilian which pretty much sums up the average European male’s attitude to women. “Bellissima,” “meravigliosa,” the list of compliments goes on. I can’t help but get flattered, even if the same thing may be said to every female to set foot in a club.

This is how it began: last night after having dinner and a few lethal and undrinkable cocktails at an Irish pub with a visiting friend from Sydney, we headed back to Via Zamboni, the main street where the uni can be found. By that time it was around 11.30 pm, which, judging by the amount of young people gathered on the streets, seemed like the perfect time to be heading out. I could feel myself getting excited, the night was young and I had no worries or things to be grumpy about, apart from being absolutely freezing. Firstly we went into a bar called Lime. Silly us decided to order another cocktail, this time a cosmopolitan, thinking that the mixer might disguise the terrible tasting alcohol. We were wrong. All you could smell and taste in those cosmos were vodka, vodka and more vodka. I was going to spew. Another 5 euros down the drain. Then again, compared to cocktails in Sydney which can cost up to 18 dollars, I guess it wasn’t that much of a money waster.

We ended up meeting two female Erasmus exchange students, one from London the other from Ireland. They arrived last September and are here for another six months. I looked around at the tables of English speaking students. At that moment I realised that it may just be true- people here speak more English than they do Italian! How was I meant to improve? That thought came and disappeared after the girls told me they were taking us to Kinki, a nightclub next door which was holding the official welcome party for Erasmus and foreign exchange students! What a night to come out, it was truly meant to be.

Kinki reminded me of my summer trip to Greece a year and a half ago: loads of sleazy guys, some of which were very good looking, and definitely not afraid to approach women. I felt like the most beautiful woman in the world there, and I’m sure all the others did as well.

These guys know what to say to women. It’s like they have practised on so many that their lines and game plans have been memorised, perfected and immortalised. Once you’ve had a few drinks into you it’s pretty hard to resist.

One guy's little speech to try and kiss me went like this:

“You are awesome!” He told me.

“You don’t even know me!” I replied.

“You wanna know how I can tell? Number 1, you are being difficult, and I like that. Number 2, you are a very good dancer and number 3….” ( I can’t remember what number 3 was now!)

He then continued to repeat how even though we were both seeing other people, no one would see us kissing in the club, he was leaving forever tomorrow and my beauty was on another level.

I though it was best to go home as soon as possible to avoid giving in to my spontaneous desires.


Waiting

Waiting, waiting waiting. Feeling warmed by the cup of earl grey tea on my knee and in my belly. Staring at a blue and white checkered tea towel that we have left to dry on one of the heaters. Living alone in this apartment is making my deepest fears come alive to haunt me: will the clothes catch on fire? will someone tear through the apartment door or break a window? will the gas from the stove poison us to death? And I thought I worried enough as it was in Sydney! But I suppose it’s like any situation; wherever you are, whoever you are with, your mind (or at least mine) will always find something to be worried about.

I am waiting for the apartment owner Carla to come and give us the final pieces of information and household items that we need to feel truly at home. Things like an Internet password (kind of ironic since this is used to connect with the world OUTSIDE home), the mop (essential since walking across the floor with socks on makes them dirty) and the keys to the letterbox (should I receive any love letters, serenades or administrative documents). A couple of things have refused to work here already so I will have to ask her about those also. We haven’t had showers yet- I am curious about the hot water- I have a feeling that it will take ages to heat up, may cut out halfway or something equally annoying. Then again these inconveniences are only minor at this stage.

Talked to my boyfriend this morning, seeing his face makes me want to be with him so much more (I guess it would be a bad sign if it didn’t!). He is very loving and supportive of me being here. He hasn’t fully gotten to know the real Trina yet, that is going to definitely take time, but I think he knows me well enough after over a year of being together. I thought this trip might break us, and it still can, but at the moment I speak for myself when I say that it is only making me feel even stronger for him. Distance, may you love not loathe our hearts.

First night

The first night in our apartment. I am in a comfy bed being propped up by orthopaedic cushions. Unfortunately the polyester leopard skin blanket I bought at the Saturday markets here smelt too bad so I have had to put it in the laundry basket ready for the next washing load before I can use it. Yes, that’s right, I have started to wash. At first we were a little hesistant to put the washing powder tablet into the machine, but after doing so and fumbling around with the temperature and wash settings we managed to put on a load and have hung our clothes out to dry on chairs which are placed near each of the various heaters in our apartment. By the morning I think they will be dry so at the moment it is a pretty effective system. Washing is just one of the many household tasks I will have to learn whilst living here for six months.

Another important reality of life I have to get used to is the need to conserve water and energy. We get charged a ridiculous amount if we exceed our limit so I really hope this doesn’t happen. I am being careful to turn taps off while brushing my teeth, turn the light off when not in certain areas, and tomorrow morning I will have to make sure I don’t shower for too long. To be honest I don’t know how long this “environmental consciousness” is going to last. I am so spoilt at home that I just do these things unthinkingly.

Since we have no Internet here on our first night my creative spirit has obviously awakened by itself---hence this online manifesto. It’s either this or Sex and the City. Mela has all seasons spread out across 2 cds, that’s what I call pure compact entertainment. Mum arrives in Sydney tomorrow morning at around 11 or so and I am looking forward to talking to her and everyone tomorrow. She’s been here for a week while we get settled etc. Saying goodbye this morning at 5am was definitely NOT fun. I hate goodbyes I really would rather skip that part and go straight to not seeing the person for however many months. It sounds stupid but they are so emotionally draining and for what? So that you can feel like utter shit and replay that painful last moment you spent with someone over and over in your mind? No thanks.

That’s it for me tonight. Sex and the City is calling.

One more thought…I currently feel like I am in a state of “nothing.” Not happy not sad, not excited not homesick, not busy not bored. I am yearning to meet people and start this new life, but don’t know how. I feel like I am at the edge of a massive black hole. I want to jump in, explore, grow and change but am scared shitless and have no idea what to expect.

Life begins...

It takes around about 24 hours to get from Sydney to Bologna, a long way to come just to be plunged into below zero temperatures and start getting settled in a place you know nothing about. My exchange has finally begun. It's been years in the making- both I and my best friend Mela always dreamt of going together, and when we found out we had both been accepted to Bologna university, the dream came true. Two Italo-Australians, one Italia.

This blog really began as a diary to be written in a beautiful red leather journal I was given on my 21st birthday last year, then the diary became a word document because I couldn't be bothered putting pen to paper, and now the diary has finally been transformed into something that can be enjoyed by all.

Upon arriving here, after a week of calling apartment owners and arranging to see if their properties were liveable, we finally found one we could call home. I must say apartment hunting was an exciting experience, especially since I live at home in Sydney and have never had such responsibility before. Not only this, it gave me my first chance to practice Italian, which is what I have really come here to do. The apartment is in a palazzo on Via Nazario Sauro, a street off one of the main roads called Via Ugo Bassi. Ugo Bassi is the equivalent of George St in Sydney, with punks instead of goths. Mohawks are all the go here, forget Dolce and Gabbana or Fendi. I had no idea that Bologna had such an alternative culture within it.

After a couple of days shopping at the two main David Jones/Myer type department stores here called Coin and Upim, we had all the cushions, sheets and household items we would need to feel truly at home.