#boxed milk

[honeyshark]

Funguary 02/09/22 Blue milk cap

[idontwanttheytofindme]

[dreamondreamer20]

[ar-syn]

[dina-juliana]

Bagged milk comes out of udders which is essentially a bag so if you think about it, boxed milk is more unnatural and Canada wins this one.

[wrongfairy]

First Days in Milan

I arrived in Milan on Wednesday morning the day after starting my journey. I made it from Malpensa Airport to the train station where my roommate Sam had agreed to meet me and guide me home. There was one problem with this plan: I had no way of calling her. Thankfully as I wandered through the station I found a TIM store and easily purchased a SIM card with calls, SMS, and internet (data). With said SIM card and my unlocked phone I was able to contact Sam who was at the station already, but on a different floor. We met in front of the TIM store and she lead me to the metro. The route to the apartment was straightforward enough, but I had the added complication of an 80 pound suitcase. Needless to say my arms were tired the next day from manhandling the "behemoth" as I called it.

We get to the apartment which had a locked gate and locked ground floor door. We are on the 5th floor, but it may actually be the seventh considering the floors go: 0, R, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5… (No idea about the R floor. It seems exactly like all the other floors.) The elevator is tiny, but thank god there is an elevator! When we reach the apartment Sam wrestles the door open (explaining that you really have to put some muscle into the last turn of the key) and I am greeted by a cheerful, clean, bright space. It's all white walls and tile floors. Space is used efficiently, its much smaller than most buffalo apartments for three people, but does not seem cramped. Sam and I are sharing a room (just like freshman year all over again!) and our other roommate Mike has the bedroom/living room. Pictures to follow. From the apartment we can see the track and football field of a local sportivo and many other similar apartment buildings. I'm told that on a clear day you can see the Alps. Since it has been raining or foggy every day since I have been here I added some so you could get the effect.

My bed you will notice has a comforter on it that my roommates were nice enough to buy an extra of before I arrived. Considering I crashed about an hour and a half after settling in that comforter was a godsend. Never mind that my bed did not have sheets; sometimes sleep cannot be kept waiting. After passing out for two hours Sam and I took a trip to the mall, which is only a ten minute walk from the apartment. The goal of the trip was sheets for my bed and to get a look around the neighborhood. The store of choice is COOP. Sam explained it as the Italian Walmart; basically it has everything from eggs to bikes to clothing. I bought non-matching sheets (of course) but ones that compliment my hot pink and fuchsia comforter. For some reason I have never been able to tolerate matching sheets. 

The evening was spent unpacking and lounging. There are very specific times when you can get things done in Milan. AKA things are never open. This is not the land of open 24-hours and we-never-close.

Part of the relaxation/move-in protocol was a shower and boy oh boy did that feel good. The bathroom is nice. It contains our washer, a nice stall shower, and oh yeah a bidet! I turned it on but have yet to use it. Basically the rest of the day was uneventful.

The kitchen is nice. There is a fridge, microwave, stovetop, and dishwasher. There is not, however, an oven. Say goodbye to roasted pumpkin seeds, Thanksgiving turkey, and Christmas cookies. No oven just means we will have to be creative with our seasonal favorites.

Sam was really excited to get her picture taken.

The next morning Sam and I trekked to campus. It's about a 20 minute walk to the foreign office, a little less to reach the building that houses the geology department. The foreign office and the person tasked to handle us INVOGE students was supposed to have office hours that morning, but was not there. In fact the whole office was locked. This is (apparently) not surprising, but nonetheless disappointing. It also seems to be par for INVOGE program; no one knows how to deal with us and there is never a straight answer nor an easy solution. Since no one was in the foreign office I decided to venture to the geology department to find our advisor Alessandro Tibaldi. As you may have already guessed, he was not there. He was out in the field, so he had a real excuse for not being around. Disheartened, I walked home, if for no other reason than to see if I remembered the way. Fast forward two hours and I meet Sam back on campus. We stumble through the process of buying a sandwich and laugh about how getting things done in Milan and with Bicocca seems impossible. Sam, having been here longer, has dealt with this to a much greater extent than me and has been instrumental in helping me navigate the bureaucratic waters.

So not the most productive days, but not for a lack of trying. We return home, less than triumphant and eat some bread with delicious cherry jam and Nutella. Basically this is what we eat all the time. It's cheap, quick, and easy to have around the house. That afternoon we again laze about, because the places we could be doing things are closed. I read and doze and lament how I am becoming like my father in that I cannot seem to read without falling asleep. When we do venture out again to find food other than that mentioned above everything is closed. So we return home to our bread and jam.

This also shows the "milk" we bought. It's kind of weird. At first I thought it tasted gamey, but now seems less so. I have yet to find milk that will satisfy my cravings. For now those urges are sated with tea and croissants.

The first day and a half moved at a slow pace, which at first seemed like a disappointment, but was in retrospect probably a blessing. It allowed me to rest from travelling, get acclimated to the time change, and venture into the neighborhood in a casual manner. It also good that I rested because the pace picked up considerably in the next section.

[samwineman]

Comment dit-on "routine"?

I've spent almost two weeks in the 10th.  Now that I've (arguably) gotten settled into my new home, you may be wondering what a typical day in my [*new* 10 euro] shoes looks like.  I'm no Rebecca Black, but here it is.

7:15 - Wake up and immediately open the window to my balcony so the light comes in and I can't go back to sleep.  Try to go back to sleep anyway.

7:20 - Wake up (again).  Brush teeth with vanilla toothpaste. Trudge my way into the telephone booth of a shower complete with a slanted shelf that I will forget about until my shampoo slides off and hits the ground.  At which point I will bend over to pick up, hit my head on the side of the wall, drop the shower head (it doesn't attach to a stationary holder), spray the ceiling, and try not to swear because people in France tend to be a lot quieter than Americans and I'm already always back-peddling.

7:28 - Eat breakfast.  I know - that was fast... but water is expensive here so people take short showers.  Anyway, breakfast is a little different here.  It's usually toast and jam, some coffee, and maybe a pastry left over from dessert the night before (Madame's apple tart today... yum).  Cereal is apparently just catching on, so we have it whenever Chris hasn't eaten it all and it's kind of granola-y and loaded with white and dark chocolate chips.  The milk comes out of a box.  We eat our cereal from giant mugs that double as bowls.

7:40 - The coffee maker makes espresso-sized servings, so I save this for last since it won't last as long as it does at home.  Rinse my mug-bowl and pour a shot into it, wonder if it's just strong coffee or is actually considered espresso, finish whatever homework I have left, and then move to my room to message Josiah.

7:50 - The neighbor across the way is shirtless, ironing his work clothes.  In the window directly across from my bedroom, every day, like clock-work.  I, like clock-work, am by the window, looking busy.

8:15 - Take the metro to class; line 7 to line 5, exit Bastille.  Watch the ground.  Avoid dog poop.

8:45 - Walk to Accent, where I will find out what classroom they have moved me to.  It's always a surprise.  Most days we're on the third floor of a building down the street, but yesterday we were deep underground in a half-tube shaped room with no windows that may or may not double as a bomb shelter.

9-10:40 - Learn French.  Get called on to participate in everything, especially when I'm making a face that says "I have no idea what you just said."  I think this is part of her strategy... and it seems to be working.  Two nights ago, my host family complimented the improvement I've been making.  I didn't know what to say.  Not because I was being modest, but because I actually didn't know what to say.

10:40 - Run across the street for our [pause] coffee break, order a cafe-creme and a pastry or rose meringue (which is basically a giant cotton-candy flavored Lucky Charms marshmallow) from the boulangerie, and fight my way back across traffic to class.  I say fight because the drivers in Paris are extremely aggressive and pay no attention to cross-walks and such, but in all fairness, neither do pedestrians.  I've found that the only thing that will stop a car from moving forward is your body directly in front of it.  Then they'll break, but barely.  And if it's a taxi, they'll just honk and accelerate.

11:00-12:00 - Learn more French.  Daydream about the great things I want to accomplish in this city.  Worry about whether or not I've been "experiencing Paris to the fullest."  Get called on because I'm not paying attention.

12:00 - Get a baguette sandwich for around 3.5 euro at one of three places: an egg and cheese at the aforementioned boulangerie, bri or chevre at the boulangerie a little farther down, or a trios fromage at the blue sandwich stand where the woman that makes my sandwich allows me to practice my French, even though it would be easier on everyone if I just ordered in English.

1:00-4:00 - For the past two weeks, more often than not, there has been an excursion.  We'll go on guided tours of the Latin Quarter, the mosquee, the opera, and that really famous cemetery where Jim Morrison is buried... too lazy to google.  I really like the tours where our teacher (M. Petitjean) is our guide because she always points out the best stuff to come back and see, including where you can find the best baguette, grab un cafe, or a tart when we're done.  Which leads me to...

4:00 - Gouter time.  Because no one eats until 8pm in Paris, around 4 we have a gouter.  This is a ritual I have stuck to on the daily, which usually involved a shot of espresso and either a pastry, a dessert, or half a baguette - sometimes all three.  A few days ago, we found out from our French textbook that a gouter is actually mostly meant for children.  Oh well.  It hasn't stopped me.

5:30 - Take the metro home.  Try to blend in, but get super fascinated by everyone's lack of eye contact.  Try to make eye contact.  Freak out when it works.  Be a general creep.  Exit Poissonierre.

6:00-8:00 - Some combination of skype, e-mail, facebook, and napping.  I know it's not exciting, but let's be real.  You're doing it right now.

8:00 - Struggle with keeping my brain turned on long enough to speak French at the dinner table.  Nod when Monsieur tells a story.  Get embarrassed when Madame calls me out for not knowing what he's talking about.  Compliment her dinner (because, really, it's delicious every single night - gourmet status).  Have her deny the compliment because I am only eating the vegetarian version, which frustrates her to no end.  Deny her offer of a bite of the meat dish.  Eat each of the 4 courses, which is usually:

A vegetable appetizer with bread.

Something baked, like a casserole or quiche.

Bread and cheese from the cheese plate, which currently hosts an assortment of fromages.

Dessert.  Especially good when Madame makes that giant apple tart.

9:15 - Go back to my room, check my updates, and spy on the neighbors.  Think about doing homework.  Feel guilty about not journalling as much as I could or blogging as much as I could or seeing as much as I could.  Remind myself that I live in Paris.  I LIVE IN PARIS.  And that's fucking awesome.

10:30 - Get off facebook.  Start my homework.  Shut my window because some pigeon is doing his mating call right outside of it and that's kind of weird.

11:05 - Read for a few minutes.  Write for a few minutes.

11:30 - Go to bed.  Get back up and see if Josiah's online.  He's not.  Send a cutesie message about missing him.  Go back to bed.  Listen to a Mandy Moore playlist (self-titled album, of course).  Wonder how it's possible for a pillow to be this lumpy.  Then wonder why the pillows here are all shaped like couch pillows.  And at some point between "One Sided Love" and "Saturate Me," I fall asleep.