Sicily: Still on honeymoon

Despite my misgivings, my apartment is very nice. It's plenty large enough for three people, and it's looking like the third guy isn't going to show up, so it's practically roomy. Perhaps the most pleasant surprise, however, is the presence of cable TV. With the welcome exception of BBC World News, however, all of the programming is in Italian. I haven't been brave enough to switch to original Italian television, but I have been able to summon up enough courage to watch Italian dubs or versions of American shows (unfortunately, all I could find was Friends) and channels (unfortunately, all I could find was MTV, though it's actually far less grating when you can't understand them). Despite these difficulties, I am very up to date on world news (or at least one programming loop worth of it), and the Italian shows ARE sort of entertaining (I like to make up the dialog as they go along), and I imagine the TV will eventually become helpful in learning the language when I finally have the building blocks of it, so I'm glad we have it.

My first day in Sicily was short, but my first night in Sicily was certainly memorable, in multiple ways. After moving my stuff up to my loft, I got in touch with the other API students and made plans for our first dinner in our new home. After unpacking what I could, I showered and changed, grabbed my keys, and headed downstairs. Once I reached the outer door of the apartment (there is an outer door followed by a staircase up to the two apartments in the building; my door is on the right), I faced a bit of a quandary. How do I open this door?, I wondered. I looked around for a button to open the electric lock, but found only a light switch. I saw the keyhole on the door and came to the (reasonable, I thought) conclusion that because there was a keyhole and because I had a key, that was how I was to open the door.

Unfortunately, it wasn't.

Though the key fit in the hole and did turn the lock, success eluded me. After fidgeting around with the key for a while, the unthinkable happened, and the key broke off, half of it still in the lock. I stood stunned for a minute before making a few feeble and ill-fated attempts to remove the key. In my struggles, I found the button to open the door, and I pulled it open to allow for some much needed cool air. I walked outside to the other side of the door in order to take a look and see if I could somehow push the key out when I heard a scooter, an evil, evil scooter around the corner. I moved to the side to allow it to go by before returning to peering through the keyhole. A minute or so later, I thought I heard someone speaking English around the corner, and, hoping it would be my program director or someone who could help me, walked over to investigate. I didn't see anyone, but did turn around in time to see my door close and lock me out.

Needless to say, I felt like an idiot.

I called my program director to tell her what happened, and she talked to Ramza, our housing director from MCAS, telling me he'd get back to me. Thinking I should meet him at the school, I walked in the direction I thought it was. Whatever direction I chose, it must have been the wrong one, because when he finally called me and let me know he was on his way to the apartment, I was thoroughly and completely lost. Though I had a map, the street names were too blurry to read, and though I had my apartment marked on it, the piece of paper in my hand was no Marauder's Map, so I had no idea where I was. Every time I thought I was heading the right way, I'd end up seeing the bridges or the castle, which adorn either end of the island (my apartment is fairly central in location). After making an ass of myself to several well-meaning but nigh unintelligible Italians, I finally found someone who knew where Via Mendoza was, and as a bonus, she spoke some English. She directed me towards my apartment, and after a few minutes of walking (it turned out I was right around the corner), I walked up to my door only a few minutes before Ramza arrived. He got the other occupant to open the door for us, and then used a pair of borrowed pliers to remove the piece of key (which I've kept as a sort of souvenir). He told me he'd give me a key in the morning as my roommate was walking in.

I explained the situation to him and asked what his plans were for the evening. He said he wasn't sure yet, but he'd be happy to head back when I needed to be let in. We exchanged numbers, and I walked out to see if could still catch dinner.

It ended up that I got to the school right as the others arrived, and we headed to dinner as I explained my adventure. We headed to a place on the southern half of the island near the water that our program director recommended. We were a bit late to get a table for so large a group outside, so they took us downstairs to the dining room, where a glass floor offered us glances of a set of ruins below, complete with electric fountain pumps. I ordered risotto with seafood (the menu didn't explain what exactly "seafood" meant, but I decided I'd take a chance) and consequently had my first taste of calamari. I was pleasantly surprised, and the meal in it's entirety was, again, delicious. I'm now afraid to go anywhere that Michelle doesn't expressly recommend, as she's pretty much batting a thousand.

I ambled back towards my apartment after splitting off from the girls somewhere near the fountain that serves as a center of travel on Ortigia. I called my roommate, who was already on his way back. He arrived at the apartment a few minutes after I did and opened the outer door. Though we contemplated going out again, we ended up just watching (and attempting to decode) TV for the rest of the night, as it was late and we were both drained from our travels.

I slept well my first night, and Thursday came quickly. We were to meet at the school at noon for a practical tour of the area, and I threw on my last clean set of clothing and headed out early so I'd have time to stop and eat.

A euro and a half bought me a very large and very tasty custard-filled pastry and my first espresso, which I found to be a bit of an acquired taste. I was very pleased with the price, as the American equivalent of one and a half euros (around $2.25) wouldn't have gone nearly as far back at home.

The practical tour was relatively short, but helpful. Stores aren't quite as plentiful as they were in Rome, but it's less of a walk to the few there are. Michelle introduced us to the owners of a little market/deli place. They brought up the image of my grandparents, only short, fat, and not in South Dennis, Massachusetts. They didn't speak English, but seemed to be excellent at communicating through hand gestured, like they were used to us little lost Americans. She also pointed us towards the open-air market, which, while only open during the morning on week days, offers the cheapest prices and freshest foods. Most Ortigians buy their food far more often and in smaller doses than we're used to, so this fits nicely.

After the tour, we ate lunch, and, after a quick picture session, split off, with most of us heading off to get the things we needed for the next four months. I myself went back towards that market and mimed myself soap, shampoo and detergent, then headed home and figured out how to use my Italian washing machine. It took a bit of effort, but I finally got it going, and, after an hour and a half, pulled my clean clothes out and hung them outside on the terrace to dry. They're still wet as I'm typing, but I'm not too worried. I left the apartment again and bought myself a few more shirts and some food. My first attempt at cooking here was a successful one, I thought. I made myself some kind of pasta and cheese dish that I can hopefully replicate when I need to.

This takes me up all the way through typing this. My third roommate did end up showing up, so I might give him a quick tour. I'm sorry that this entry is so long, but I wanted to get caught up. Tomorrow is filled with a long orientation, and marks the beginning of daily life here in Siracusa.