Aeroporto, Galaverna e Caffè

UNO.
With tear-filled goodbyes to my family at the airport, I boarded my flight to Frankfurt and cried my way through letters from my best friends, (Special mention @Gabi Stein and @Adam Brews <3), took a Stilnox and passed out for the 11.5 hour flight. (I HATE international flights with no movies :(  #firstworldproblems. )

I got my first taste of (poes-cold) European weather. It was pouring with rain as I boarded my connecting flight to Milano, but again, I passed out until landing, after which I collected by (2x23kg) suitcases, and was greeted by my host-parents Sara and Alessandro. My host-mom claimed not to understand my English because I don't sound American (American accent. Gross.) So I slightly tweaked my speech and spoke very, veeeery slowly.

As I exited the airport, welcomed by -2 degree weather (from 38 at home), I saw what I naively thought was snow - it is, in fact, galaverna - the frost that is formed from the dew freezing overnight on the branches and the ground - proper one of the most exquisite things I have ever seen.

Sara warned me that it would be a busy day because of all the errands we had to run... Visa this, school that, insurance the other. But it astounded her to realise when we got home, 50 minutes drive from Milano, that Alessandro had left my folder of documents at the airport. This reminded me SO much of home - mom complaining not to trust dad to keep things safe - obviously a universal problem.

I watched as Sara made coffee in some medi-evil-looking coffee pot on a gas stove - how old school Italian is that? Con latte, in a huge bowl-sized cup, I knew I had officially arrived in la bella Italia. Sara sat speaking on the phone about "studentessa scambiare" trying to recover the documents, while I watched Italian TV: The most beautiful people I have ever seen in my life, advertising... yoghurt, and... pregnancy tests.

Sara and I, without the documents, left home to do all the errands we could. Walking through the streets of Italy, I felt like I was in a movie - be it Eat, Pray, Love or some other jut movie with typical Italian still-pictures - insanely good looking policemen riding motorbikes in tight pants, teenagers making out on benches on the pavement of the main road (Via Giovanni), old buildings each with something quaint and memorable on its facade, school kids walking home from school with cigarettes in hand - like a scene out of Skins.

Freezing my ass off, Sara suggests we go into a store to buy a coat with "those things from birds" on the inside. Not 5 minutes in the store and I somehow managed to shatter the central pane of glass of the table into a million pieces. With hurried, English apologies, I forked out the €45 for the bird-coat, and swiftly exited in tears, again. 15km walking - and that is Torre Boldone.

(Considering he was #1, Roland, you are #DENCH.)