Oh, hi! I didn't see you there! Welcome to my blog... apparently this writing to a computer screen and pretending I'm talking to all your smiling faces is supposed to feel normal? Maybe? Perhaps it will grow on me.
So it is T minus a-bunch-of-days-that-roughly-equals-a-month until Operation Jet-lag. And I'm getting a little nervous. Because I do not yet have my visa, because I'm Canadian, and so needed my visa to travel, and so couldn't mail it so I have to trust the Overseas office and the Italian consulate to get it back to me. Because the fact that I'm going to be stranded in a foreign country for 3 months is beginning to sink in. My brain is going like a bazillion miles an hour - what if I suck at Italian (which I kinda do - the past tense is hard! My vocabulary is tiny!), what if I get lost or hit on or lonely? What if the Mafia gets me?
Yes, thank you, I realize I'm being ridiculous. Everyone knows the Mafia wouldn't mess with someone as dangerous as me. However, it's a still a little intimidating. As certain lovely people who helped me move out of my room know, I have a LOT of stuff. I'm not so good at packing light, and I don't have a camera yet. And while I'm off stuffing my face with gelato and pizza and pasta, the world will continue revolving without me and and and. So it's a little freaky. But truly, it's okay. I'm not asking for things like sympathy and encouragement, I know it's going to be awesome and that I'm going to have the time of my life. But it's allowed to be a little nerve-wracking as well.
And for the love of God, if one. more. person. tells me I'm "going to meet so many cute Italian boys" or alternatively, that I'll "meet a nice Italian boy, wouldn't it be nice to live in Italy?" I might just go Hulk on their butts and tear their faces off. Because 1. do you really think you're being original? Do you really think you're the first and only person to have said that to me? and 2. you've entirely missed the point of what Italy represents. The last time I went to Italy, I was recovering from a very awkward and unpleasant time in my awkward teenage years. It was the first time I'd travelled anywhere alone and it was a really awesome journey of self-discovery (to sound super cliché). Italy is for me, myself, and I. I don't want to meet a "nice Italian boy," I the-opposite-of-want that. So say something else to me about my trip, but leave the poor Italian boys out of it.
Thus begins my adventure. Or, rather, thus begins the beginning of my adventure. Thus begins the pre-adventure adventure. Yelch. Tune in next week (or the week after?) for what will undoubtably be an entertaining tale of camera shopping! The Price of Optical Zoom takes on Summer Savings!
