Introduction to Italia

Photograph: Of all the new teachers, plus some of the returning people and the administration, sharing pizza at Timeout, one of the few places open and ready to serve in the month of August.

August 21, 2007

I arrived at one of Milan’s airports at 7:50 in the morning to rain and a much colder climate that I had anticipated. I was conscious of my surroundings, half reprimanding myself for not taking the learning of Italian more seriously, which of course I believe will be a daily occurrence, if not something I will do every second, in the coming months. A feeling of complete panic waved over me as I headed to a line labeled non-European Union Passports. Running through my head was a "to do list" mantra. Act calm. Smile at the very serious immigration worker. Head to baggage claim. Find a cart. Then, get down on your hands and knees and pray to God almighty that there would be someone there on the other side of those big sliding glass doors to pick me up. The immigration worker did not even notice me. No smile was needed, no explanation of where I was going, where I would be living, no explanation to give of why I had chosen to move to Italy. Yes, I had chosen to move to Italy. I am across the ocean, far from my friends and family. Friends and family that I adore, by the way, to start a new life in a country, with workers that will not even utter the words welcome. Which in this particular moment, I found very, very comforting. I think the less talking with immigration officers the better. No offense, I am sure they are very charming people!

After some worrying and begging for change, which of course I didn't have. I found a cart to load my three very full suitcases onto a somewhat small cart. No questions at customs. All that was left to hurdle were the sliding glass doors. My future standing before me. Who knew what would lie ahead. As I slowly wheeled the unstable cart through the doors, I scanned the crowd, waiting to see anyone who was looking like they were waiting for me. No one. Absolutely no one. Well, of course there were people for Jones. There were people for Anderson. I am of course making up the names here, for I have no clue what they said on those shiny papers. All I knew is that, at that very moment, there was no one waiting there for me. Panic. Shear panic. Who will I call? Who will know what I should do? As I was running through my shabby contingency plans, and as I started again with the self criticism of my preparedness (or lack of), I saw a woman who looked my age, with kind eyes and long curly brown hair.

“Are you Rebecca?” She said holding a sign that said American School of Milan. Had breathe leaving my lungs ever felt so good? I don’t think so. I smiled. You know, that smile. The smile of you just saved my life. Anyone reading this has seen that smile on my face, for I am a little dramatic and well, all of you have picked me up when I have fallen flat on my face. For, we all know it is a common occurrence for me. So, with that question posed, I put my hand dramatically to my heart and happily said, “YES!”

From that moment on, I have been on a whirlwind orientation to my new school, my new city and my new country. An introduction, that I have enjoyed and treasured. I know I shall feel at home here, I have no doubt. Of course, I miss my family and friends very much, but I have you all deep within my heart and think of you always. This blog is a very interesting idea. But, I feel so very tired and writing is not coming all that easy for me. So I apologize. I can't imagine the typos. I cannot possibly recount my whole orientation activities, for we have been so busy, and I have gotten very little sleep. But I shall give you some of the moments that I have found the most interesting and exciting. Or maybe the moments I feel I can actually articulate.