As Long as We Can Find the Needle

Elevators here in Milan do NOT look like the elevators back in the States. So much so that I started lugging my 42 pound luggage up the stairs (I had nine floors to go), until our apartment bellman, Willy, chased me up two flights yelling “Otto! Otto!”. Which in translation was probably ‘what is this crazy american doing trying to carry all her luggage up to floor eight?!’. (Side note: the first floor in Italy is zero, so floor eight means nine floors.) While I was staring at him thinking, ‘how do these apartments not have an elevator?! This must be how Italians burn off all their calories!’.

Thank God he pointed out that what I had previously thought was possibly a bathroom (the sign says “occupato” when the elevator is moving), as the elevator. First of MANY mishaps to come I am sure.

For anyone thinking about studying abroad in Italy, or anywhere where they don’t know the language, go for it. I’d like to say, you’d think it’d be scary, but for the most part it’s just hilarious. I took one semester of Italian back home and my language skills go from saying the alphabet that soon turns from Italian to French (every time) to only partial memory of sentences. This leaves me, for the most part, when navigating this city, to playing charades with locals. If they see you’re trying, they’ll help you out, I promise.