an eternal blogpost about the eternal city

PLOT TWIST: this time I actually talk about relevant events that happened in my life.

I FINALLY WENT TO ROME.

May 15th

We started off by me waking up at 7 and my host mom knocking on my door at 7:05 asking if I was ready because we had to go. Always behind schedule, right on schedule. We picked up Vincent (Hong Kong) and his host mom Paola (the lady who organized the whole trip) at their house and then went to the airport, where all of us would eventually meet in a group. The whole procedure of the Catania airport has no interest or value so I'll just skip to the good part.

Since we all bought separate tickets we were spread throughout the plane, and I got a window seat on the right side. I was next to a Catanese couple that were very friendly, and we talked off and on through the trip of around and hour. On the plane, I actually saw Mount Vesuvius and the sixth grade me died a little. Spoiler alert: IT'S REALLY FREAKING SMALL FOR THE AMOUNT OF SIGNIFICANT DAMAGE IT DID. 

Upon landing in Rome I got separated from the group at the airport and had to wait for all of them to get off the plane. We only were in Rome for three days so the terrible baggage claim was avoided (thank sweet Jesus) and we caught a train into the center city terminal. To get to the train station (connected to the airport), we had to walk the same exact path that we walked on our first day in Italy. It was the weirdest feeling ever. I wanted to die standing RIGHT THERE! 

Since we're Sicilians we missed the first train and had to wait for the next one that came 15 minutes later.

Upon arriving at the train station, we had to take the metro to our apartment, which was outside of Rome but still close enough to reach with the metro. We exited the terminal and found our hotel, settled in, ran to the grocery store to buy some crappy deli meats and bread for a makeshift lunch, and we exited quickly to go to the Catacombs of Priscilla.

These Catacombs Paola had seen as a kid and she wanted to go back to see them again, and you know....none of us were really excited because they're like....catacombs. But they turned out to be really awesome. We walked there (only like 3/4 of a mile) and we split into two different groups: some went in an English speaking group because there was a group of Indian nuns that spoke only English, and then me, Andrea (Paraguay), Mook (Thailand), Maria (other AFS volunteer) and Paola stuck behind and took the Italian tour. The tourguide had a heavy Roman accent and spoke at the speed of light, so it was harder to understand than a normal tour. I wasn't allowed to take pictures and with such a small group I didn't want to chance getting yelled at. But they were built in the 2-5 centuries BC and used by the Roman Christians because they weren't allowed to be buried above ground. All the lighting was by oil lamps, there were tombs for all types: family tombs, child tombs, infant tombs, adult tombs, closed tombs, open tombs, buy-one-get-one-free tombs (okay maybe not) but it was HUGE. And since they just took dead bodies and stuck them on shelves to rot away, there were holes in the walls for flowers or incense to fight off the rancid smell that you could only imagine came from the catacombs.

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After the catacombs a little after 5, we decided to take the metro into the city to see the Trevi Fountain and some of the plazas that Rome has to offer. The metro closest to the Trevi Fountain was a little hike through some tourist trap streets, and once we approached the corner of it I told Grace (Australia) and Roosa (Finland) (since they had already been to the Trevi) that I was going to close my eyes and they should steer me so I will open my eyes and it will just be RIGHT THERE. So I did, and it was the coolest moment ever. 

When I saw both the Duomo di Milano and the Colusseum I had to walk up to them and it wasn't nearly as much of a shock cause I was able to adjust to it mentally. But when you see something for the first time that you've dreamed of seeing for EVER, you gotta do it right. And it's an amazing feeling to just get hit with this "holy crap I'm here" feeling all at once. Now that's what dreams are made of.

We ate at a half decent restaurant and visited Piazza di Spagna for about 10 seconds, returned to the Trevi at night, and went back to the house at midnight.

May 16th

We woke up at 7:30 to get ready and left around 9ish if I remember correctly to go to the Vatican. The Vatican is on the other side of the Tiber River, a long enough hike with the metro. We got to the Vatican Museums first, where there was a line that stretched a couple of blocks down the street. We waited for about a half an hour or so to get in, and then we flew to the beginning of the Museums. There was a constant flow of people through the Museums because it was set on a track, not in a building, which led to the Sistine Chapel. We chose the long track because you're not gonna come to the Vatican and not see everything. It was spectacular and this ended up being my favorite day in Rome (for many reasons to follow). 

Il Discobolo, which I studied in art history and had a mini heart attack when I saw it. 

Hall of Geography.

Sicily as viewed from Rome. Interesting because there is the volcanic island called Vulcano in the Aeolian Islands that is no longer active, but at the time this was painted it was active. Ah, history.

One of the rooms of Raffaele

Take a guess at what this is! (We all coughed to cover up each other's camera clicks because taking these photos is prohibited)

After exiting the Vatican Museums, we went to Saint Peter's Basilica. The line stretched 3/4 of the way around the circle thing, because you have to go through a metal detector to get into the cathedral (thank you 9/11). It only took 15 minutes to get there, however. Then, we spent 3 hours in the cathedral itself. We went up to where you could go to the top of the dome, and then we went down to the crypt of all the past popes and I was able to witness the crypt of the first pope and apostle (if you already know this good for you), Peter, as in Pietro, as in San Pietro. Awesome? Yeah I know.

View from the roof

these are Jesus and his 12 apostles, each of which have a plaque on the back with their name. (roof of San Peter's)

After our popetacular visit to Popeland, we grabbed some dinner at a touristic restaurant and decided to visit the Colusseum at night. I was peeing my pants the whole bus ride there, and my jaw literally dropped when I saw it from Piazza Venezia. I walked with Grace and Roosa VERY QUICKLY towards it, kind of ditching the group but I HAD MY OBLIGATIONS, PEOPLE.

On the way I just kept on shrieking and swearing in two languages about it's the freakin' Colusseum! I'm staring at the Colusseum! I've only dreamed about this since I wa-OH MY GOD THAT'S THE ROMAN FORUM RIGHT THERE. And so on.

I may have just been a teeny tiny bit excited.

Roosa, Grace and I got so "in the moment" that we literally dropped to the ground and just looked up at the Colusseum, using our purses as pillows. And of course I took a selfie.

May 17th

This was our last day in Rome. We headed off to tour the Colusseum first thing in the morning (after dropping our bags off at the train station for later), and then visited the Roman Forum before lunch. 

So....this may or may not have been where they burned Julius Caesar's corpse.....(hint...it was.)

When we took this, we heard a British woman mutter to her friend.....

Christian tourists. 

Nearing the end of our final day, we finished at the Pantheon, where Mook met up with her BIOLOGICAL family (well, her father, sister, and grandmother), which was the sweetest thing ever. The dad and sister spoke english, but the grandmother didn't speak anything, and I am telling you, I want an Asian grandmother. Cutest thing I have ever seen.

There is a hole in the ceiling for sunlight to come through, but astonishingly, when it rains, it doesn't enter?!?!11?

At the very end, Roosa, Grace, Marie and I went for a little bit of shopping and then we went back to the train station. This entry "broke my balls" writing and uploading every painfully slow picture. Hope you enjoyed it and I'll catch you on the flipside with a potentially depressing post about going home! Probably! 

if you're from america, then why are you so cultured?

oh my god Karen you can't just ask people why they're so cultured.

Hello my fellow Americans.

You all probably are aware of the fact we are one of the most powerful, populated, and structured countries the world has to offer. We have one of the strongest military forces in the world, a democracy that has birthed one of the most internationally-known presidencies there has ever been (Obama [duh]), an economy that runs fairly well and doesn't throw an entire country into a downward plunge, a standard of living that is optimal in comparison to some other countries, and an abundance of exports, imports, and products that we have access to every minute of every day.

Some of those things were an overshot, I know. But y'all can't be pessimists with this one.

I digress...you all probably are also aware that those reasons are the exact same reasons that we are one of the most hated countries on the planet. Love us or hate us, you know us as the Americans.

Believe it or not we are one of the most mistreated, stereotyped, and misinterpreted ethnicities there are on this planet. We talk a lot about racism in our every-day lives, about acceptance, about understanding, about knowledge of other cultures surrounding us, but no one really seems to talk about us. In all reality the American culture (as it really is) is a taboo subject abroad. So many are educated from television shows and settings of them, like Glee, How I Met Your Mother, The Simpsons/Cleveland Show/Family Guy, and The Big Bang Theory. Or, I hate to say it but even worse, educated from vacationing in America. 

Aiuto.

As I said in that one post from November about all the stereotypes that Americans have of Italians, let's name a few from Italy about the grand ol' Nifty Fifty.

• "But what do you mean you don't eat McDonald's every day?!" This one I couldn't take seriously until I finally thought it through. Americans have the stereotype of Italians that eat a strict diet of pasta every day for almost every meal, which is 95% accurate, in all honesty. The mindset here is that every culture has a food, and it eats that food every day. What is America's food, you ask? HAMBURGERS! FRENCH FRIES! HOT DOGS! PANCAKES! Half of the people here ask if we really do eat McDonald's every day, the other half warn me that when I go back I can't return to my diet of Whoppers and curly fries every day that apparently we are portrayed of having globally.
• "Is school really like it is in the movies?" If I had a euro for every single time I have heard this question I could afford first class flights from NYC to Catania for the rest of my life and the consecutive lives of my children, grandchildren, and all of their children. So many people, in fact, have asked me this question, I have had to start lying (slightly) to keep away from the whole spiel of "it's nothing like the movies" and wasting an hour trying to convince them that we do not break out in random dance numbers, nerds don't get shoved in lockers, cheerleaders really do exist and they're not jackwagons, and we have school dances. 
• "You all are such a happy country!" This one I got from the friend of my mom who went to New York City for New Years.In the month of January we all know surely that NYC is pumping with adrenaline like heck yes we just dropped a metal ball and the whole world saw it and January is just a super refreshing month. It's a restart. Plus, NYC is a touristic paradise all year round, so anyone who goes there is going to go head over heels for any piece of it. We seem like such a happy population to any tourist that comes. It's all a part of the illusion created by the grapevine. America is rainbows and smiley faces raining down from the skies for some communities of people.
• "Do you eat pancakes every morning? And bacon? And eggs?" Thanks for movies for creating this one. They're relieved to know that we don't eat it every morning, but we do actually eat all of this for breakfast. (Sweet baby Jesus my mouth is watering as I type this)

Foreigners, or shall it be more correctly said as non-Americans, have the mindset that we are overly-patriotic, egotistical, air-headed bastards that think the universe revolves around our existence. Well, at least some of them do. From time to time when I am introduced to someone as an American, I get the "oh god, not one of you" look at first. Normally, this introduction is followed with the person trying to muster up some English, because of the sad-but-yet-pretty-much-true stereotype that we don't learn other languages, let alone such an isolated language like Italian. I'll give them credit and say that there are Americans abroad that do speak "cazzi per mazzi", kind of the offensive equivalent to "not even jack squat". Way to help our stereotype, guys! A+!

There's another thing about being an American abroad, while also surrounded by other foreigners abroad. For example, EXCHANGE.

Here's a story.

At the AFS Camp in Palermo back in October (holy crap that's like 7 months ago), every country had to make a poster of their country and all of the significant items of the culture of their country. Then, we went around with post it notes and wrote what we knew about the country and stuck it to the poster. Anyways, while the Americans (there were 6 of us but now there are 4 of us in Sicily) presented our poster, I forget completely how it rolled around, but a girl from Latin/South America stood up (everyone could ask questions) and asked us why we call ourselves Americans and we don't classify them as Americans. And then all of them clapped, and we looked like douchebags.

This got the Americans, meaning me and the five others, pretty frustrated. Here's how it goes.

We are open people. We may be one of the most open cultures that you will encounter. Yes, there's a large amount of ignorance in our culture but you know what? It's what makes us up. We deal with it and the human race is going to have to deal with it too. In a bunch of languages, there are words that are substitutions for the word "American". Like in Italian its "statiunese" and I know there's one in Spanish as well. We don't have this word or something like it. Hop off of it. It's our language, not our ignorance. The world knows us as the "Americans". We don't have a reason when you think about it to go out of our way to not use the word "American" in our vocabulary. I have personally tried to use the words "United States" or "people of the United States" for the sake of not offending an entire continent but really, I think we can all be a little less sensitive over this whole thing.

Rant over.

It's almost an immediate assumption as an American abroad that you are completely oblivious to the world around you. Yes, there are people that can't tell you the capital of Canada (hint, it's Ottawa) that live in the US. There are probably people who can't tell you the capital of the state they live in. There are people who can't point out where Egypt is on a map. There are people who didn't know Africa is a freaking continent and not a country. Point being, these people exist, but don't let them define us.

I said these exact words in Italian about two weeks ago at an AFS meeting. As you all know I went up to Bergamo for a week and I encountered the stereotype that they have of Sicily and the people there that we are all "mafiosi" (part of the Mafia) or homeless that steal money from the rich and wealthy up in the north by not working. I, being a reincarnation of a full-blooded Sicilian, defended my Madreterra by saying "Si, noi abbiamo la mafia e anche i barboni in Sicilia, ma non ci definiscono." (Yes, we have the mafia and the homeless in Sicily, but they do not define us.)

Moral of the story is, be you American, Asian, European, Australian, or African, for the love of all that the planet provides for us, hop off of each other's backs for little things. It's one thing to get mildly aggrivated when someone may or may not call you by a prefered name. It's another thing if someone is calling you or your ethnicity/nationality in the means of slander. You know how many times my name has been mispronounced in Italy? So many times that it's now pronounced "Carah" instead of the Americanized "Keruh". It's like that. Let's focus on the bigger things in life, because we are lucky to be in the situations we are.

ketchup

THIS TOOK ME TWO DAYS TO UPLOAD FROM MY CAMERA TO COMPUTER TO YOUTUBE TO HERE PLEASE STOP ASKING ME WHATS WRONG WITH MY BLOG THIS MEANS YOU MOM

que pasa

Hello world and all who inhabit it!

I know my frequency of blog entries has decreased immensely compared to the frequency I maintained in America, but something happened called "I got a life". Sorta. So, here is what is coming up soon that you should know about and why I probably won't make another post for awhile.

1. LA SETTIMANA DI SCAMBIO (Exchange Week). There's a week in certain regions of AFS Italy that you can choose to go to a different part of Italy for a week, to live with another family, normally you get to see one of the bigger cities, etc. So, from March 23rd to 30th, I am going to Bergamo, Italy. I will be with a group of kids I don't know (or at least haven't seen in a long time) and I will take a day trip to either Milan or Verona (if I am allowed to choose, I will choose Verona.

Bergamo

ISOLE EOLIE In the beginning of April, I will go on a 3 day, 2 night trip with my amazing Italian class to the Aeolian Islands off the coast of Northern Sicily (they're a part of Italy). It's a group of 7 islands, one of which is named Stromboli. There is yet another active volcano within these islands, and even though it's technically a scholastic trip I am praying that we will be able to at least walk on the beaches.

ROMA!!!!11!!!1!!!1 Since I am one ragazza fortunata with an amazing chapter, me and 6 of the other 7 AFSers in my chapter are going to Rome in May from the 15th to the 17th. Do I really have to put in google pictures of Rome? I will anyways.

So that's what's up. See you at the end of May!

I may or may not be joking.

SHARKBAIT! HOO HAA HAA (for the future exchange students out there, especially Robby and Katelin)

So let's face it. It's a big world that revolves around our personal perception of the world. Also things like money and fame and international relations but who's counting. Our perception of the world around us is based off of what we know, what we've been told, what we've seen, and what we've done. Obviously, the more you see/do/know, the broader your perception of the world around you is, and the wiser and more earthly you feel. It's a win-win situation that I am happy to be a part of (*cough cough* exchange)

This post goes out to all of the future exchange students out there who have not a single clue in their heads about what they're hopping into. But I'm not gonna rat you all out about how different the world really is or how you should open your eyes and look at the world differently like I am basically known for. This is basically the survival blog entry and not one of my crazy, off-topic philosophical rants.

So let's go from day numero uno. You wake up in an ungodly cold hotel room, take a shower, and head down to the lobby with your life in 60 pounds on your shoulders and in your arms, ready to be wrangled by the airport security. You're wearing your AFS shirt, or Rotary uniform, sneakers, hair nice, make up on, and ready for the day ahead of you. You eat breakfast, and then boom. 10 hours later you're done sitting around waiting and you're on the plane across an ocean.

This point in time I would like to refer as "the last hoorah". The Last Horrah is probably going to be the last time in a long time you will feel you are completely sanitary, healthy, and sane. You will slowly feel The Last Horrah slip away from you as you sit in this metal tube of air 37,000 feet above sea level with air that is as dry as the Sahara and no flight attendants to spare. As you try to fall asleep with your complimentary blanket from whatever airline you got stuck with or try to get interested in one of the 20 movies you've been provided with, you get the feeling of "I haven't slept in a day, I need a shower". When the lights in the cabin flick on and you hear the captain crackle about morning breaking over the horizion, you can see the beginnings of the continent you are traveling to. It's like a broadway musical, probably "Good Morning Baltimore" from Hairspray will do you the trick if you are interested in really seeing what I am talking about.

Because layovers are twice the fun and half the expense, you get to your layover country. oh god your knees oh god it's daytime oh god its 3 AM at home oh god wheres the toilet oh god can I speak my language here oh god this doesn't feel any different oh god what do i do oh god this is it oh god oh god oh god. At this point, you and the rest of your caravan meander off of the plane and into a nearly abandoned lobby of an airport. After all, it's like 7 AM. You're early. For the last time in 10 months. You scurry your way through customs and nearly punch the kid in the face that talks about joking about carrying an AK47 across the Atlantic Ocean, and you make your way to the gate. This, this is the wall. Your adrenaline is dead, everyone else is dead, you're hungry, you're tired, the angry cleaning ladies of the airport keep waking you up as you try to sleep on the floor... welcome to the jungle.

Finally you board your plane to your host country, and this is even more of a casino than the first time. Babies crying, everyone looks like they got into a fight with a lawn mower, different languages, god am I seriously sweating this hard?!.... The plane ride is decades shorter than the first one. You touch down in your host country and the feeling is basically described in one way:

You hop off the plane, sweatier than before and try to receive your luggage in the warzone baggage claim along with 40 other kids and a dozen foreigners that have the same motives as you do. You get your bags, and if you're like me, stand for nearly two hours waiting for a bus inside a crowded, hot airport in early September in the middle of Rome. 

The first sleep you get is on a rickety bus with your head pounding against a window, and it's only because your body is shutting down. The hotel is up a giant hill and you stand in the sun to check in. You corral your bags into a box on the floor marked with tape and get your roommate from the same country as you. 

FINALLY SHOWERS AND SLEEP!

ALMOST!

Your first meal in your host country is weird. You don't know how to do jack squat and neither does anyone around you, so you just kind of.....eat. 

And eventually, you end up in your bed and fall asleep in your clothes with the lights on and no sheets while in the midst of conversation with your roommate because you are just that exhausted.

I went through this vivid description because this is the start of your new, not-so-glamorous life as an exchange student.

LYFE.

Not trying to burst any bubbles, but the thing is, you are going to show up in your host country and realize that you brought none of the correct clothing. At first, this is a horrifying thing as you show up at school in bootcut jeans, nike slides, and a Washington Nationals shirt because it's really all you got. This is where (parents of exchange students, here's your explanation) the initial clothing binge comes in. Because I am both a cheapskate and oblivious to the opinions of people around me, I initially didn't care about what I wore. But now, since I've lost like 2 and a half pants sizes and every part of my body has gotten weird, only about 40% of my American clothes are socially acceptable without looking like a homeless mother of 4. Sharkbait(s), be prepared to show up to black tie events in the middle of December in a blue sun dress with black tights and orange heels. Be prepared to have only 5 nice outfits for 6 days of school, so there will be a day where you will look better on an episode of Drugs Inc. than in one of the most fashionable countries on the planet. You will ration your socks, underpants, and crucial things like tank tops and cardigans. If need be for more explanation, just listen to Garth Brook's Friends in Low Places and you will receive your personal anthem for the next ten months.

Also, as I've touched on many times before through blog entries, host families can get awkward in the blink of an eye. Whether you are in Morocco and wipe your muddy feet on your dad's prayer rug, go to a private Christian school in the US as an exchange student and ask for a "rubber" as an eraser, because it's the word you learned, or you're me and have had your host brother the same age as you walk in on you in the shower, things will get weird and awkward and you just have to deal with it. You have to learn to live with the uncomfortability that will take up a good 95% of your life, and that's just the flat out truth.

You will be treated like a 5 year old and there's no way of stopping it. It sucks but when you can't order at McDonalds for yourself without stuttering and forcing the employee to speak English after 2 or 3 months, you are gonna have to cut down your ego a little and let someone else step in. It will take you about 5 months to boost the courage to even enter a shop on your own, let alone answer a "how may I help you?" type question, God forbid. You will read children's books because anything else will make you literally break down into hysterics at the sight of the first paragraph. You will use the equivalents of the words "nice", "good", "bad", and "pretty" more than any other adjective on the planet because they are the easiest and most general ones to use. Your friends will do everything for you and will double check that you understand everything. Some will go as far as to hold your hand as you cross the street, even in your seventh month abroad (yes, I have one that does that). If you cry at school, there will be 3 people with tissues, one wiping your makeup off, one holding your hand, three wrapped around your torso, and a dozen comforting you. You are 5 years old. 

You will lose a bit of dignity going abroad, yet another thing you can't help. You will become the overly-attached best friend at some points because if you aren't, you ain't got no social life. You will wear the same pair of pants, 3, 4, 5 days without washing them because all the rest have been escorted out of your closet and are being taken captive by the grueling 2-week laundry cycle. Your socks will not match. You will run out of things from your home country (mostly toiletries) and then have to experience the horror of finding replacements. 

And then you have my least favorite word in the world. Communication. Try keeping your preoccupied mother, friends at home, church/school body, rest of your family, and your academics under one roof while maintaining your host family, friends, school, and other groups. Throw the time zones in and boom, it's a lose-lose situation! But really, don't expect to keep a load of contact. And you will get emails and messages from your mother about I let you go on this trip so I think I deserve to know A LITTLE more of what you are doing and what is happening to you, Kara Rose Richards. 

Moral of the story: Exchange is the most stressful, frustrating, straining, challenging, energy-draining task you have faced yet and maybe ever will. But it will also be the most knowledgeable, fun, exciting, adventurous, eye-opening, memorable, and fastest year of your life.

Believe me.

"The States put what in Italy's where?!1?1!!?!"

GOOOOOOOODDAY MY FELLOW AMERICANS.

This entry, though probably short and sweet, was brought to my attention earlier today at a school assembly and after 3 different people tried explaining it simply to me in Italian, and I still couldn't wrap my head around it, I ended up going home and researching it through the sides of both the United States and Italy.

The matter of this research is MUOS, which stands for Mobile Use Objective System. These devices are a complex group of 5 satellites in outer space and 4 ground stations, serving for the purpose of enhancing the capability, speed, accessibility, and quality of service for the United States Armed Forces abroad. The 4 ground stations being in Hawaii, southeast Virginia, Australia, and one near and dear to my heart, Niscemi, Sicily.

How this system functions is by ultra-high frequency waves sent through the satellites, the satellites being replacements for cell phone towers, with the system having the same capabilities of a cell phone. The advantage of these satellites are being able to have more contact with "disadvantaged environments", being places with dense forests and limited coverage within the canopy of the trees. This will provide point-to-point and netted communication to the American military, which means access to voice, data, and videos spanning the globe.

I'm gonna guess none of you knew about this, right America?

This 2.11 billion dollar project has been in existence through our Department of Defense since 2004, and is expected to be in full out orbit by 2015.

But what's the problem with it?

If you scan through some articles written by Americans, you will only hear the good things about MUOS and how it will expand the connectivity of our military, yadayadayada. But here in Sicily where this is an everyday issue that is discussed at school, at home, at the public rallies that are held about it, and this is why.

Straight from a page in Italian, www.nomuos.org, MUOS is considered a danger by the people here, because of the high electromagnetic frequency produced by the radiowaves. The health of those who have pace-makers installed in there bodies are also at concern here, because of the electromagnetic field produced could easily be sufficient enough to disturb the progress made by these mechanisms of the people in neighboring communities. The reason this is an issue in Sicily and not in Hawaii, Virginia, or Australia, is because the land base in Niscemi is the only one of these four that is installed close to the public.

So, if we wanna get down to the bare bone of this, we are microwaving people with our high-tech military installations.

As you can see, this is a current event here, not in the States, even though we are the ones doing it. Isn't that kind of messed up? Not accusing anyone here, but I'm just proving how uninformed we are. Me, being a fairly well informed American student that has a pretty large knowledge of the world around her, came here not knowing diddly squat of MUOS. I find it very intriguing.

So, the question is now, MUOS, or no MUOS?

To be continued by 2015.

nel mezzo del cammino di mia vita

MOTHER OF GOD I DID IT.

HALF OF IT.



Attention all blog readers (aka everyone who has gotten so sick of my mother's links to this blog on facebook that they just ended up clicking on one to see what it's all about), I have MADE IT. HALFWAY. Actually a little over half because halfway was 2 or 3 days ago depending on how you count it. But I have around 150 days left.

Let's recap (BECAUSE IT'S FEBRUARY AND NOTHING HAPPENS IN FEBRUARY)

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1. September 4th, 2013. I left my house with a half gallon of Turkey Hill iced tea and a scarf to knit for the drive to New York City with my mom and her friend. 

   

   The view from our far corner table of the orientation in New York with all the kids going to: Spain, France, Italy, Ghana, the Netherlands, Bosnia, and Belgium.

2. September 5th, 2013. I left the country in Doctor Who leggings and 90 other kids where I flew over and out of the country for the first time, saw France, Germany, and slept on the airport floor in Switzerland. 

   

   One of my last glimpses at America.

3. September 6th, 2013. Arrived in Rome and died of air poisoning from the terrible smell at the airport, got to camp and took a shower (the last shower I would ever walk around after with wet hair in public), and started a bajillion new friendships

   

   The night I hung out on the roof of our hotel with mah girls.

   
   

   

   Anna from Austria.

4. September 9th, 2013. My first day in Catania.

   

   Leaving Rome.

   
   

   

   My first of many terrible pictures with Roosa.

5. September 21st, 2013. Switched host families. 
6. October 19th, 2013. Palermo Orientation Camp!

   

   MY HOODRATZ.

   
   

   

   My view from my hotel room when I decided to wake up before dawn to take a long shower.

   
   

   

   Oh god, I've been meaning to share this. This....this is China. And the vocalist is Momo, the coolest Chinese girl you will ever meet.

7. November 3rd, 2013 Gita to Siracusa
   
   
   
   
8. November (in general): I actually skyped with my family back home, cried about missing Thanksgiving (not really), finally took my camera to school, started speaking Italian for the major part of my life. 
9. December: Mattia came home from Belgium, my school was occupied, my little sister's birthday, got into my first fender bender with my family, Hektor's return to Sicily,La Festa Della Luce, my first Italian Christmas, field trip to Mineo, Sicily.
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
10. New Years: Here's a little story I didn't tell you all about. New years was spent playing Sicilian cards (which I only lost every time), Fifa, and insane hide and seek outside. I was at a party with my two brothers and we didn't get home until 6:30 in the morning New Year's Day. But, at midnight we all went outside to set off fireworks, and so did everyone else in Sicily. I was able to stand up on the wall of their garden, and look off into the horizon and see 25+ different sets of fireworks going off at the same time. It was surreal. Then we set off one of those lanterns like in that scene from Tangled, which almost set a cactus on fire. (and let the chorus chime in) I LOVE MY LIFE.
11. January, 2014: field trip to Taormina, I become fully functional in school, field trip with the family to central Sicily at the Roman bathhouse thing, a tour with my sisters school of the same place my host parents got married at, getting my residence perrmit from Hell, Nano coming to visit.

    

    Roman Dining Hall

    
    

    

    Host mom's birthday lunch.

    
    

    

    First course at host mom's birthday lunch (not only for me as much as I wanted it to be)

    
    

    

    On the tour, this was the ceiling of the room my host parents got married in. Where you can kind of see the hole in the roof is where the opera singers would be. 

    
    

    

    My baby from Japan, Ko!

    
    

    

    Oh look it's another (we both are Roosa's models)

12. February, 2014: halfway point, Sant'Agata holiday, ?????

And here we are! February 2014. Santa Agata, the patron saint of Catania, was just celebrated this past week. This festival is the 3rd biggest religious festival IN THE WORLD, the first being Rio de Janiero's Carnival. I went to a friends house for the first night with some others, where we could watch the fireworks from the town square from her balcony, and then I went to see the actual Saint two nights after. Have you ever been smothered by a flood of Catholics? I have. Pictures are to come of this.

So, who knows where I will end up this month. Or the next month. Or the next. We'll just have to wait and see.