Tu Vuo'fa L'americano!

oh, my god. have come to the conclusion that italians are hardly more then mildly domesticated wild animals.
monday morning i woke up 45 minutes late, leaving me less then 20 to make it to the train station. i threw on a dress and my prada slingbacks and ran hell for leather all the 1.5 miles into town. arrived with one minute to spare, and sat crumpled on the cold concrete examining my feet: slingbacks had demolished them, as such shoes are not made for 8 minute miles. blisters, bruises, was terrible. after 10 minutes of agonizing pain and inspection, i realised that my train had not come. went inside the station and had a calming cappucino, as have become use to such things as trains-just-not-showing-up. one hour later, when the next train was suppose to come, i went and waited again. did not show. finally some maintenance man came over and kindly explained to me in italian that there was a strike on the trains and busses for the day. "well then why the hell is the train station even open?" i wanted to ask. but could not, as feet in pain and brain had stopped working from lack of comprehension at why in the world italians do the things they do, and was not even worth the attempt to put together a gramatically correct sentence. hobbled home mumbling to myself, but secretly glad that i was given a good excuse to miss class (clearly, was not my fault). in an effort to salvage what i could of my poor feet, i decided to take a moment to sit in the warm sunshine and paint my toenails. as i explained earlier, my apartment opens up into a lawn, and directly nextdoor to me is a classroom. so i sat out in the grass in shorts and a tanktop (was maybe 60', but i am very warm blooded) and proceded to paint. suddenly had the feeling i was being watched. looked up toward the classroom and saw the entire room full of italian boys staring at me, mouths agape. "oh my god, a girl, with feet, and she is coloring them!" they seemed to cry. for the next 15 minutes or so, they watched in awe. some guy even took a picture. finally the professor came over and gave me a dirty look and shut the door.
later the evening, around 11:45 actually, kind of late, i was in my apartment watching Grease in Italian and eating a banana, and there was a loud bang on my door. before i could even get off the couch, the door flew open, and in burst 2 of the argentinians and one of the boys from rome. "there is a beautiful dance party on the secondo piano! arrivi!!"
went to investigate this beautiful dance party for myself, as i was under the impression that...there was no secondo piano? apparently i have been such a hermit in my little ground floor apartment, that i had no idea that there was an actual dormatory in my building, and that there were maybe 100 kids who lived there. startling. anyway, i followed the noise and pounding base up to the thrid floor (secondo piano), pushed through a big heavy door, and was greeting by a chorus of shouts and cheers, all for little old me. was all the kids who go to those classes outside my door, i just had no idea that they lived here! so i walked in, and was immediately swarmed by italians, all shouting "americana! lei arriva!". there was house music and cigarette smoke and hoops and hollars, people dancing in the hallways, people spilling out of various doorways, bottles of wine being passed above our heads. suddenly, as though there was someone standing on high conducting a choir, the boys, in unison, burst into song: Tu Vuo'fa l'americano, the amazing song jude and matt sang in The Talented Mr. Ripley and a napolian classic. was dumbstruck. have seriously, seriously always wanted that to happen to me, was one of my lifes dreams: to be serenaded with tu vuo'fa l'americano. by a room (hallway?) full of italians. that is the magical thing about these people, they will sing at the drop of a hat, at the first utterance of a chorus line, just because they are moved to sing. one guy kicks it off, and the rest follow suit, at the top of their voices. football chants, napolian classics, "po'porno" (a new favorite)...italian boys sing, loudly and boldly.
so i made some friends of course. i imagine that its easy to dance the night away when your classroom is 2 floors down from your bedroom. i, however, have to travel a great distance in order to reach my school, so i think im going to take it easy for a while and let the italians have their fun. the good thing, at least, is that since i obviously didnt know they were there because they are so sequestered, their insane partying wont keep me awake at night.
oh, so much other good stuff is happening, and i want to write, but i have to go catch my train. oh, pictures of cormons (which is an incredible place!):
www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2452772&l=598ed&id=4913936

i love you all.