just woke up from an extremely peaceful nights sleep. i have moved from sleeping in the living room, on the big bed, to sleeping in the computer room, on a very small fold down futon chair. despite the fact that i cant roll over without hitting the floor, its actually extremely comfortable. and, it seems, not full of bugs...
i have been waking up the past several days with weird bug bites on my legs. at first i thought BED BUGS, and was in a state of mild histeria all yesterday evening after doing a big google search on the subject. bed bugs are nasty, mean little things, and im not one for infestations of any sort, regardless. my mom acted like i was an idiot, though, crushing my concerns with a sound "there are no bed bugs. go wash your clothes." was not so sure. then i talked to katie baggett, who said that when she went to paris last month she had the same type of bites, little misquito-bite-sized welts, on her legs, but, as is the case here, there was no evidence of bugs in their hotel room. i know that there is no evidence of bugs in my apartment, because in the midst of my panic attack i spent a good 45min crawling all over the floor on my hands and knees with a pocket flashlight and a pair of tweezers looking for clues. nothing. apartment is clean...but thats what they want you to think.
anyway, after changing my sheets and moving to a new matress, i have woken up this morning with no new nibbles. so i think the consensus is that europe has some sort of microbug that kt and i are allergic to and ill just have to get use to it. in the meantime i am dressing my wounds in an italian benedryl cream and keeping my eyes peeled...
yesterday, in general, was a day for playing household chore and sleep catch up, nursing wounds, and reflecting on wed nights events. on wed evening i dragged myself out of the apartment around 11pm, begrudgingly, as i really wanted to stay in and read my book. i walked down to the bridge to Trastevere, and was greeted with a most beautiful view of the river: boats and barges, twinkling lights, tents popped up alongside with vendors selling food and trinkets, mimes and musicians. there were people everywhere, sitting on the walls of the bridge, hanging from lampposts, lounging in the street. everyone had beers and speared beef on k-bobs, like a big outdoor cookout. when i reached trastevere, the quiet little neighborhood that i had thought was so demure by day had transformed itself into a giant nightclub, with people and music and lights and sounds coming from everywhere, each little alley presenting another pocket of excitement. i literally thought to myself, what have i been doing all these nights, sitting in campo di fiori with the tourists?? now i know where the italians go at night. have deduced that campo di fiori, though wildly fun and entertaining at night, is like the Boars Head/ /Allgood side of town in athens, full of jovial but none-the-less idiotic frat boys and the girls who want their money; and though these bars and this area can be fun sometimes, if you're in the mood for that sort of thing, its not really someplace that will expand your consciousness in any meaningful way. trastevere, though...its the little kings/ 40watt side of town. there was laughter and people in costumes and litghts dripping from the sky, people handing bottles of beer out their windows to passing friends and strangers, pounding beats and street food. i was in heaven.
i wandered about the streets for a good while, pushing through the crowds and trying to get my bearings and find a place to have a pint. i came to this bar, this little tiny one roomed bar, that looked like pure magic. the twinkly lights flashing from the drink menu cast a gold and pink hue over the room, illuminating the photographs of audrey hepburn and bob dylan along the walls. on either side of the room there were bookshelves, and upon further inspection i found that these bookshelves held COOK BOOKS, beautiful beautiful cookbooks, all in italian. the adorable guy at the counter explained that this was a bar/library, and the overall theme for the literature was food. i was shocked. combine the fact that this bar has twinkly lights, bob dylan, cook books, and offers jack daniels for 3euro a glass, it is by far the most perfect place on the planet. i sat sipping my bourbon and reading through gorgeous italian food magazines for a long while, watching the people come in and out and feeling quite at peace with the world. after a while, a ragtag group of boys came in, all shouting greetings to Alessio (the guy at the counter, the owner), who lined them up a row of shots along the bar. it was one of those moments when you are conscious of the fact that you have about 2 seconds to make a decision: the decision this time, for me, was, should i go ask to take a shot with them? i suppose the beauty of the evening had gotten to me (i.e. jack daniels), so i decided yes, i should go take a shot with them, and bounded prettily up to the bar. alessio, who is such an angel, introduced me to his friends saying "this is eleanor, shes in italy to work on farms, in udine. shes in rome for a couple weeks beforehand. and even though she wont be home in november, she is still going to vote in the election, for barck obama" (i had explained absentee ballots to him earlier). the other boys cheered, and shook my hands and kissed my cheeks and introduced themselves. they were all from rome, born and raised (except for one, my favorite of all of them, estevan, who was adopted from chile), and they had been friends since childhood. after such an introduction, the night took on a life of its own. the boys were all wonderful and sweet and such dorks and i loved them all, and i think they liked me alot, though i dont know that italian girls are quite as...loud as i am. we talked politics and foreign policy (drunken rants), they taught me how to say things in italian, and i recall trying to convince one of them that aerosmith was better then the rolling stones, chocking it up to a language barrier when he didnt "get my point". after a few hours i decided to call it a night, as it was very late, so i kissed them all on the cheek and started to make my way home. john called right after i left, thank heavens, and metaphysically walked me home, back through the streets and over the bridge. at one point i was walking down an alley and a large group of guys dressed in togas came up and surrounded me (jovially and respectfully) and tried to get me to go back to trastevere with them. they took my cell phone and one of them started talking to john while the others tried to pick me up and carry me off. managed, finally, to lose them, and made my way home, safe and sound (john stayed on the phone with me till i got completely inside my apartment with the door bolted, such a sweetie).
oh dear, its 11am. if im going to catch that jude law boy at the coffee shop i had better get going. not sure what i will do today...something grand, i suppose.
i have been waking up the past several days with weird bug bites on my legs. at first i thought BED BUGS, and was in a state of mild histeria all yesterday evening after doing a big google search on the subject. bed bugs are nasty, mean little things, and im not one for infestations of any sort, regardless. my mom acted like i was an idiot, though, crushing my concerns with a sound "there are no bed bugs. go wash your clothes." was not so sure. then i talked to katie baggett, who said that when she went to paris last month she had the same type of bites, little misquito-bite-sized welts, on her legs, but, as is the case here, there was no evidence of bugs in their hotel room. i know that there is no evidence of bugs in my apartment, because in the midst of my panic attack i spent a good 45min crawling all over the floor on my hands and knees with a pocket flashlight and a pair of tweezers looking for clues. nothing. apartment is clean...but thats what they want you to think.
anyway, after changing my sheets and moving to a new matress, i have woken up this morning with no new nibbles. so i think the consensus is that europe has some sort of microbug that kt and i are allergic to and ill just have to get use to it. in the meantime i am dressing my wounds in an italian benedryl cream and keeping my eyes peeled...
yesterday, in general, was a day for playing household chore and sleep catch up, nursing wounds, and reflecting on wed nights events. on wed evening i dragged myself out of the apartment around 11pm, begrudgingly, as i really wanted to stay in and read my book. i walked down to the bridge to Trastevere, and was greeted with a most beautiful view of the river: boats and barges, twinkling lights, tents popped up alongside with vendors selling food and trinkets, mimes and musicians. there were people everywhere, sitting on the walls of the bridge, hanging from lampposts, lounging in the street. everyone had beers and speared beef on k-bobs, like a big outdoor cookout. when i reached trastevere, the quiet little neighborhood that i had thought was so demure by day had transformed itself into a giant nightclub, with people and music and lights and sounds coming from everywhere, each little alley presenting another pocket of excitement. i literally thought to myself, what have i been doing all these nights, sitting in campo di fiori with the tourists?? now i know where the italians go at night. have deduced that campo di fiori, though wildly fun and entertaining at night, is like the Boars Head/ /Allgood side of town in athens, full of jovial but none-the-less idiotic frat boys and the girls who want their money; and though these bars and this area can be fun sometimes, if you're in the mood for that sort of thing, its not really someplace that will expand your consciousness in any meaningful way. trastevere, though...its the little kings/ 40watt side of town. there was laughter and people in costumes and litghts dripping from the sky, people handing bottles of beer out their windows to passing friends and strangers, pounding beats and street food. i was in heaven.
i wandered about the streets for a good while, pushing through the crowds and trying to get my bearings and find a place to have a pint. i came to this bar, this little tiny one roomed bar, that looked like pure magic. the twinkly lights flashing from the drink menu cast a gold and pink hue over the room, illuminating the photographs of audrey hepburn and bob dylan along the walls. on either side of the room there were bookshelves, and upon further inspection i found that these bookshelves held COOK BOOKS, beautiful beautiful cookbooks, all in italian. the adorable guy at the counter explained that this was a bar/library, and the overall theme for the literature was food. i was shocked. combine the fact that this bar has twinkly lights, bob dylan, cook books, and offers jack daniels for 3euro a glass, it is by far the most perfect place on the planet. i sat sipping my bourbon and reading through gorgeous italian food magazines for a long while, watching the people come in and out and feeling quite at peace with the world. after a while, a ragtag group of boys came in, all shouting greetings to Alessio (the guy at the counter, the owner), who lined them up a row of shots along the bar. it was one of those moments when you are conscious of the fact that you have about 2 seconds to make a decision: the decision this time, for me, was, should i go ask to take a shot with them? i suppose the beauty of the evening had gotten to me (i.e. jack daniels), so i decided yes, i should go take a shot with them, and bounded prettily up to the bar. alessio, who is such an angel, introduced me to his friends saying "this is eleanor, shes in italy to work on farms, in udine. shes in rome for a couple weeks beforehand. and even though she wont be home in november, she is still going to vote in the election, for barck obama" (i had explained absentee ballots to him earlier). the other boys cheered, and shook my hands and kissed my cheeks and introduced themselves. they were all from rome, born and raised (except for one, my favorite of all of them, estevan, who was adopted from chile), and they had been friends since childhood. after such an introduction, the night took on a life of its own. the boys were all wonderful and sweet and such dorks and i loved them all, and i think they liked me alot, though i dont know that italian girls are quite as...loud as i am. we talked politics and foreign policy (drunken rants), they taught me how to say things in italian, and i recall trying to convince one of them that aerosmith was better then the rolling stones, chocking it up to a language barrier when he didnt "get my point". after a few hours i decided to call it a night, as it was very late, so i kissed them all on the cheek and started to make my way home. john called right after i left, thank heavens, and metaphysically walked me home, back through the streets and over the bridge. at one point i was walking down an alley and a large group of guys dressed in togas came up and surrounded me (jovially and respectfully) and tried to get me to go back to trastevere with them. they took my cell phone and one of them started talking to john while the others tried to pick me up and carry me off. managed, finally, to lose them, and made my way home, safe and sound (john stayed on the phone with me till i got completely inside my apartment with the door bolted, such a sweetie).
oh dear, its 11am. if im going to catch that jude law boy at the coffee shop i had better get going. not sure what i will do today...something grand, i suppose.
1 comment:
hurrah!
Post a Comment