Diet Snake

This morning, Simone sleepily stumbles to the cupboard and reaches in to grab something for breakfast. Not unusual. But he reaches in, feels around, grabs a package . . . it takes him a moment to realize something is wrong. It's too light. He looks at it: the clear plastic packet is perfectly sealed, but there's nothing inside it. So he brings it to work, writes "merendina" on one side and "diet snake" (Michele's pronunciation of "diet snack," the translation for merendina he found in his dictionary) on the other, and leaves it on the desk of one of our coworkers who's known for eating everything (every birthday he's the one who finishes the cake).

It's become the hardware lab story of the morning, even funnier with Simone acting out finding the package, holding it up to the light to make sure it's really empty, etc.

I love these kids. I don't know how I'll be able to leave.
Teo has fallen asleep in my arms twice in the past thirty-six hours.

I'll leave you with this:

Tentative Schedule:

CS61A: Programming for Non-morons
Physics 7A
Math 1B: All the bits of calculus I still feel shaky on. 1A is derivatives (which I know).
Astro C10: Filippenko!

The annoying part about being in Europe is that I have very strange windows in which I can use TeleBears (open hours run from 5-9 am). It just went offline as I was trying to work out new scheduling after some discussion sections filled up that I needed to make my schedule work. Sigh.

As of yesterday I will be coming home with a tan (how weird is that?)
I also have a bad sunburn on my back. Blech. I was trying to avoid those, damn it.
It hurts every time I move.
Carrying my backpack into work this morning was almost unbearable.
But life goes on and I will return to normal (+ some odd tan lines).
Teenagers are the same everywhere.
I'm (surprisingly?) really psyched for the fall.
Life disjointed and odd. Every few days I have this moment of realization that I'm in Italy.

5:30 on a Friday. Peppe and Angelo and I are the last three people in the hardware lab.

Understanding is getting easier and easier. Their English (especially Pepe's and Simone's) is getting better, and due to near-full immersion I can pick up a lot more of the Italian conversations. We take our coffee outside because the building is so stuffy (because I'm not an employee the company doesn't care as much if I leave, so I badge us all out and in). When I almost missed coffee the other day, Simone said "Coffee without Iris cannot be."

I've only been here for two weeks.

I don't know what will happen.

Tonight, I cook dinner again. Silvia is so tired and stressed that it's the least I can do. And I like to cook. It's a win-win situation.

Alessia has taken to calling me Irisi (trust me, it's the cutest thing ever). She's also learning English, words like "yes" and "okay" have been completely integrated, and every so often I'll say something to Silvia and Ale will know exactly what I said.

Having friends here is nice. I shouldn't worry as much as I do about my social skills.

Back to work.

The Sicilian Sun Has Cooked Your Brain

Pasta for lunch again. I will return home ten pounds heavier and several shades darker.

Why I Love My Job

So Indie Boy is the guitarist in a local band. He also likes the Pixies. And is very nice.
Yesterday afternoon I got Simone hooked on Tegan and Sara. Indie Boy is next (he's been working on something else, not with us).
One reason to love my job: while soldering yesterday we listened to Juanes, Tegan and Sara, the Pixies, etc.
We also take a lot of coffee breaks. Four or five times a day Simone and Peppe (also known as Indie Boy) and Pasqui and I vacate the lab and spend five or ten minutes around the coffee machine on the first-floor landing talking about life, music, and everything. Roberto is always making jokes about how hard I work because he always sees me on coffee breaks. The one time he came to the hardware lab during the day it was in the middle of the birthday party we had for Simone, with cake and champagne. There are little dents in the acoustical tiles of the ceiling from the champagne corks every time someone has a birthday.

Apparently I will be working with Cute Italian Indie Boy in the afternoons (I can't help thinking you would like him, Ingrid). He looks so much like a California indie boy that I keep having to remind myself no, he's Italian, don't speak rapidfire English . . .

Waiting for Angiuli

I work from nine till six, with about an hour four lunch at one. Angelo, my boss in the hardware division, doesn't speak much English, but it's certainly better than my Italian. Every day there is a new phrase he wants to teach me. Yesterday was "See you later," which I no longer remember exactly how to say. Today was Come va? (How's it going?) and Va bene (Well). I've relearned SMT dicrete rework, this time without a miscroscope. My work isn't always pretty, but every board except the first works perfectly (on the first I was ridiculously rusty--I accidentally popped two pads off the PCB). I eat lunch with Lorenzo and the software crowd. There's Chiara, who's sick today and looks miserable; Lorenzo, who is almost always late to lunch because lunchtime is when Lucia calls him from Milan; and several other regulars. The woman who runs the lunch room already knows that I am la vegeteriana, and points to the menu to show me which meal to order for the next day.

Already there is a routine. It feels like I've been here for longer than two days.

I'm in the middle of a thunderstorm. In Italy. At work, where we have the windows open because the building gets stuffy. Can life get better than this?

[No, this is not sarcasm. I am so giddily hapy right now.]

Películas de amor

I take back most of the bad things I've ever said about children. I spent the evening playing with Alessia and Matteo, the two kids of the family I'm staying with. Matteo loves to be held and has developed an obsession with my necklace. I spent a while after dinner, when Matteo was crying and Silvia and Roberto were both busy, walking Matteo back and forth across the flat and talking to him. He kept smiling at me during dinner--so adorable. Alessia, who's two and a half, seems to be determined to teach me Italian. She'll say something, then when I don't understand she'll start pointing and gesturing to explain. It generally works. We spent about half an hour running about after balls, with her always asking Dov'è il baloncino? Tomorrow I'll try to get my hands on the pictures Roberto took tonight and post them.