Would you like another piece?

On my two week exchange to Italy I was extremely excited to try all of the wonderful foods that the country had to offer. When I thought of Italy I thought of amazing pasta, meat sauce, mozzarella cheese, prosciutto, pizza and gelato. While this was what Italy was like, I quickly found out that not all of the food in Italy was delicious.

The first night I was staying with my host family the mother decided to make a homemade meal with a vast variety of authentic foods for me to try. After eating at hotels and restaurants for a week I was eager to get a homemade meal. This excitement was quickly replaced by nerves.

Everyone in the family was excited for the mother’s version of meatloaf. Apparently it was one of the most delicious items the mother makes and they did not get it often. The use of the word “meatloaf” immediately made me stomach turn. I absolutely hate meatloaf.  

The teacher whom was the leader of our trip told us that not trying food when offered to us is extremely disrespectful. She also told us that if we did not like something to pretend that we did, as saying you did not like something could also be seen as disrespectful.

I hear often “your facial expressions tell it all” and this is true about me. Knowing this about myself I knew the meatloaf on the table was going to be a big problem. I did not want this family to think I was a rude American on the very first night!

As I walked into the kitchen for dinner I was greeted by a thanksgiving feast, minus the thanksgiving food of course. Every inch of the over sized wooden table was covered in food. And there it was, right in the middle of the table, staring at me. 

As we sat down the mother began to dish out the food. She asked me if I wanted some meatloaf, knowing it was rude to decline, especially because it is her specialty, I said “yes please” with a large, fake smile plastered on my face.

This was like nothing I had ever seen. I could not believe that people actually ate this. The best way to describe what was on my plate was a very large dog treat. It looked like a dog treat, it smelled like a dog treat, it was served room temperature like a dog treat so to make sure it wasn’t a dog treat I asked what was in it. She told me in extremely broken English so it was difficult to understand. Lots of different meats pressed together was all I got out of her explanation.

As if eating this repulsive dog treat look-a- like was not bad enough, the entire family watched me eat my first bite anxious to see if I enjoyed it as much as them. As I chewed the cold patty of meat I tried my absolute hardest to control my facial expressions knowing that all eyes were on me. After three or four bites, one big gulp and a large swig of water the unfamiliar substance finally made its way into my stomach.

After the initial pain of eating the substance was over, I knew I had to look around the table and face the family. Had I done a good enough job controlling my facial expressions?

In broken English the mother said something to me when I made eye contact with her. Did she really just ask me if I wanted another piece? I hoped I had understood her wrong. When she reached for my plate, I knew that this was not the case. She plopped another piece, bigger than the last, on my plate. Just when I thought this painful experience was over, it was not. 

"Here we go again", I thought to myself. 

The Leaning Tower of Pisa

I’ve never seen so many people crowed around one structure. All we wanted was a picture “holding it up”; no one imagined that it would be so difficult.

When I went to Italy my senior year of high school one of our stops was at the Tower of Pisa, or more commonly known as, the Leaning Tower of Pisa. It was one of the most looked forward to stops on our two week excursion throughout Italy. We had seen church upon church counting down the days until it was time to stop in Pisa, Italy.

Our bus driver let us off about a mile away from the famous structure. As we pulled into the parking lot we were greeted by about ten other buses as big as ours. Immediately we knew that we were about to encounter a few hundred other tourists.

We had 45 minutes to explore the tower and its surroundings. We thought that this would be more than enough time, we were wrong. It turned out that we actually could have used more time due to how long it took to get to the base of the structure for a picture.

Every tourist wants a picture in the same spot, the spot where you are right underneath the tower with it leaning towards you. If you are in this spot holding your hands out in front of you it will look like you are holding up the tower in your picture.

The closer you get to the tower the denser the crowd gets. We all held hands to form a line. This way we would not get separated in the crowd and would make it to our final destination all together. This method of getting through the crowd was also ideal because the first person was able to create a path for the rest of us. With a little pushing and shoving the crowd parted ways for us like Red Sea parted for Moses.

It took about 40 minutes to push through all of other tourists to get to the best spot to take a picture. Right after everyone got their desired picture we had to all sprint back to the bus. If you were around you would have questioned if we were a herd of 45 students or a herd of 45 wild horses.   

An Exausting Trip

For most people the trip from Tampa to Rhode Island would be nothing more than a two stop flight and a few hours. Easy right? You get on one plane in Tampa, get off, get on another, and get off to find yourself in Rhode Island. Easy for everyone expect for me apparently.

It was my freshman year in college and the first time I had ever flown by myself. My best friend was going to the University of Tampa and I went to visit her. Who wouldn’t want to escape the cold winter of Rhode Island to go to Tampa? My mom was a bit worried about me switching planes alone so she told me the only way I could go was if my connecting flight was in Newark. Newark, an airport I have flown in and out of countless amounts of time. I could navigate my way around this airport with my eyes shut. I navigated every student on my Italian exchange trip from the check in counter to the gate my senior year of high school.

I had gotten to the airport in Tampa early on Sunday morning to board the plane that would take me to Newark. If anyone has ever flown in or out of Newark you know that planes are almost always delayed. This time was not any different. It was delayed two hours. During the last 30 minutes of the flight I could not stop looking at my watch. It was creeping closer and closer to the time that my next flight would be taking off. I was sitting on the edge of my seat during landing with a nervous knot in my stomach knowing that I was not going to make my next flight. I needed to leave early in order to be back for a sorority event that was going to be held on Sunday night. If I missed my connecting flight there was no way I was going to make it back to Rhode Island in time. I had never missed my flight, I was all alone, what was I going to do if I did miss my flight?

Once I heard the wheels hit the ground I just could not wait for everyone to get off. Because I was in the back of the plane it was going to take me forever to get off. Once I got off the plane I could not find my gate. I think I was so nervous about missing my flight that I just completely lost my bearings and could not figure out where I was or where I was going. I was on the phone with my mom yelling at her because I had no idea where my next gate was and I only had ten minutes before the flight took off. By the time I got to the gate I had missed the flight by just a couple minutes. I was so stressed out at that point that I just started hysterically crying to the lady at the counter because I didn’t know what to do now and I needed to get back to Rhode Island. She eventually calmed me down and scheduled me for the next flight… and lucky me, I only had to wait five hours by myself in an airport. A four hour trip had just turned into a nine hour trip because I made it to the gate about five minutes too late and I was not making it back for my event.

Not only was this trip exhausting because of how long it took me to get from Tampa to Rhode Island, this trip was exhausting because of how much I was stressing over the fact that I missed the plane and missed my sorority event. I don’t think I have ever slept as good as I did that night when I finally made it back to my dorm room.