Random stuff...

Check me out, all with the posting two days in a row over here. So efficient. Well, actually, not, because what I really should be doing is showering and/or cleaning the apartment and/or planning this week's lessons, not messing around on the internet, but whatever...

The church bells are ringing (so, is it the Duomo or San Prospero? and how will I ever find out?), the sun is doing its best to shine through the haze, and there is a soft sort of warmth coming in through the window. 60-ish degrees, says google. This places us squarely in problem-territory in terms of footwear, because for me, 60 degrees is still definitely flip-flop weather. Because my flip-flops are classy and nice and why wear uncomfortable footwear (which I haven't had time to buy yet anyway) when you could just be wearing classy flip-flops? For the Reggiani, 60 degrees is coat and scarf weather. I actually saw an older lady wearing wool gloves the other day, in the middle of the afternoon. (?!) I mean, come on now, I'll give you a cardigan or even a light jacket, but... scarf? Gloves? No. Let's just all calm down a little and take note of the fact that the sun is still shining. The perma-fog has not yet set in!

The Reggiani and I will clearly never see eye to eye on this matter, though (or at least, not before I reach the age of seventy or something), and so, I will continue to wear my sandals (at least until I find time to purchase some respectable flats in which to walk) and they will continue to give me weird looks, and everyone will know that I am straniera. It's funny, though - I don't really mind anymore. I used to be all 'no, must blend in and seem Italian and not embarassingly American' but... meh.

Now I'm a straniera who can deal with most situations that come up in everyday life here, and speak decent enough Italian to follow a conversation or the news or whatever with minimal fuss, and perform her job at least moderately decently (people occasionally even tell me I'm good at it, so that's always nice). I'm not so embarassed to be a straniera anymore, because I'm one that's holding her own in the land of the native Reggiani. I'm the straniera that can tell you hilarious stories about first moving here, while smoothly ordering off the menu or paying bills at the post office. Granted, I can still tell you funny stories about stupid things that I did just this morning, but they're the type of stupid things I probably would've done at home, too. So, yay. Successful straniera.

Uh, wow. All with the introspective over here. I was totally just planning to come and remark about the weather, in the manner of my grandmother or something, and move on - not tell you all about my relative levels of self-esteem as a foreigner. Sigh. So blather-y, self. (Also in the manner of my grandmother, actually.) Now it's time to head off to work and get some stuff done, methinks. Ciao ciao!