Care Packages, Communication Failures, and (Yes, Another) Creeper

Sometimes I wish my weekends went by with as much normalcy as my weekdays do. I know it’s not possible.

Thursday, I began planning my weekend with Beverley. We would go to Pisa, spend the weekend, and come home Sunday night.

When I returned to my apartment, the mailman showed up with a package. FROM MY MOMMY! I opened it up, to find an amazing array of 2 cards, Twinkies, Oreos, Lemonheads, and a Reese’s Heart from Valentine’s Day. This is not going to last a week, I know it.

That afternoon I went to the University to try to find the correct room for my Italian class. I found it! But once again, there were only 5 other students in the room, 4 from Spain and 1 from Portugal. Needless to say, I kinda stuck out. So when the teacher asked me where I was from, I said America, and he expressed the same surprise that most people express when I tell them where I am from. And American in Teramo? What? Well, “you are welcome here” he said. Thanks, man.

He didn’t know much English, but did his best to translate when he could. The lessons actually went really well! I understood a lot of what was being said, and one of the Spanish girls knew a little English, so if anything needed to be clarified, she tried to help me out. At least I was in the correct class this time…

I checked my Facebook messages that night, and Beverley had sent me one. She said that she thought it would be best if we left for Pisa Saturday afternoon so she could get some thing finished around the house. We could do the Tower and stuff at night, do some more exploring on Sunday, and come home after that. I told her that sounded great to me, and I would check on bus departures the next day.

The next morning, I went to the International Office to meet Rina. I had told her daughter Giulia that I was wanting to get a hair cut while I was here. My hair could use a trim, and services like that are so CHEAP over here, compared to the United States. So I may as well keep my hair as healthy as possible! When I arrived at the office, Rina gave me a map and the directions to her friend’s hair salon. I have an appointment for Tuesday at 3:00. I already looking forward to it…but I’m still trying to figure out how I’m going to express what I want in Italian. This could be interesting.

I walked to the hair salon to become familiar with its location, and then turned around to head to the travel agency. I needed to find out when the buses ran to Pisa. Technically we would be taking a bus to Florence, and then to Pisa. I got to the travel agency and successfully asked the lady in Italian what time the bus left. She said 7:00AM. “Solo sette?” (Only 7?) I ask. Yes, she said. Well, crap.

I sent Beverley a message telling her that the ONLY bus we could catch was at 7 in the morning. Then I sent her another message 30 minutes later about something else. Then I sent ANOTHER message about an hour later telling her to just call me that night, because I probably wouldn’t be on the Internet in the afternoon.

I didn’t hear from her all night. No Facebook message. No call. I wonder what happened?

Well, no Pisa for me. And I was really looking forward to that trip.

Romeo had some friends over that night, so I made dinner and ate with them. Then, I stayed up until 2 in the morning talking to people back home. At least I had a good time doing that. I can stay up this late because I’m not catching a 7AM bus anyways!

The next day, it was sunny-ish in the morning and mid-day. I got up around 12 and decided I would go running that afternoon. After taking my time getting ready, I looked outside. It had gotten gray and cold. A couple of minutes later, I heard a clinking sound outside. Was it raining? Opening my curtains, I see little pieces of hail falling on the roof across the road. HAIL? Okay, scratch that run.

I spent the morning in my pajamas, drinking tea and reading Pride and Prejudice. For a lazy Saturday, I’m definitely not complaining. I had written on Beverley’s wall telling her to call me if she wanted to do anything. We may not be going to Pisa, but I LOVE any company on the weekends.

That afternoon, she called me saying that her host mother was coming into Teramo around 5 o’clock that night and she would come too. Great! My day suddenly got better. At least my uneventful weekend in Teramo would be spent with someone else.

I think our weekend was just as eventful in Teramo as it would have been in Pisa.

I texted Anna Giulia to see if they were doing anything that night. She said that we would go get a kebab and then go to the disco. Sounds great! Beverley can come experience the disco and legit fist pumping with me and the Italians! The next thing I know, she has texted me again, saying that she and Greta got into a fight and she would no longer be going with us this evening. Oh, and that we weren’t going to the disco after all.

Okay. Well there go my Saturday night plans.

I texted Greta to see if she was still going dancing. She said she wasn’t but that she was still getting a kebab with her friend Chiara and that I was invited. I asked if Beverley could come, and she said “Of course!” Saturday night plans are back in motion.

Beverley showed up around 5:45, and we decided to kill some time before meeting up with Greta. We weren’t eating our kebabs until 9:00, so we had a lot of time to kill. I wanted to find a long-sleeved black half-shirt that didn’t cover more just my shoulders. Then we would go to the supermarket and get dinner for Sunday, since NOTHING is open.

We found my little black half-shirt at a store we visited the last time Beverley was in town. AND it was half off. I was beyond excited. We went to the supermarket to grab Sunday night’s dinner. Beef. Broccoli. Bread. And spinach and potatoes, but I already had those back at the apartment.

After we dropped off our groceries, we decided to grab a slice of pizza. I was STARVING considering I hadn’t eaten but a thing of yogurt at 12:00. We went to the Pizzeria di Mario, our favorite pizzeria in town. We had to grab a ticket, because that place is happenin’, especially on a Saturday night. We were number 24; they were on 99. I guess the numbers start over after 99…so we had a LONG time to wait. What do you do to kill time in Teramo? Walk around.

We went to the ATM so I could get some money for the next 2 weeks. Walking around, we found a candy store. Two girls, planning to watch a movie that night…candy is a necessity. We manage to tell the 2 guys working that we were just looking around. We began filling up a bag with random gummies and marshmallows. We we got to the register, he said “10 Euro.”

10 EURO? You have got to be kidding me. Of course, we couldn’t put the candy back. So we just sucked it up and paid.

When we left, we started cracking up. I can’t believe we just spend 10 Euro on candy. Never. Again.

We went back to Mario’s to see what number they were on. 3. Fantastic. Back to the walking we go.

Beverley and I just meander around Teramo, killing some time before we could get our pizza. We make it back to Mario’s. Number 17. Okay, we’ll just stay here. We get split between the millions of people inside the restaurant. And end up on either side of the door, pushed into each corner to avoid being smashed by pizza boxes. It finally gets to our number, and I choose my regular: margherita. Beverley gets this piece covered in peppers, salami and a few mushrooms.

When we get a seat, we exchange bites of each other’s pizza. I LOVED hers. I admit, I am afraid to branch out and try pizza when I don’t know exactly what the toppings are. Thank goodness my friend is braver than me. Next time we go, I’ll probably get that one.

After we finish our pizza, it is not quite time to meet up with Greta and Chiara. So we head back to my apartment to put up the candy and re-straighten my curling locks. We end up eating about half the candy while we talked. We are such girls.

We were meeting up with Greta and Chiara at the Piazza Garibaldi. We got there, and waited. And waited. And waited. No Greta and Chiara. I know Italians usually run late, but if it becomes 9:20 and they aren’t here, we are going back home.

We chill by the ticket office, because I wanted to see what time they opened. As we stood talking, these 2 guys walk by us twice. And then one of them comes over to the ticket office and starts looking at the bus times. I think.

Regardless, Beverley and I moved out of the way. Feeling slightly uncomfortable, we went down to the kebab shop. Still no Greta and Chiara.

Beverley had never had one of the amazing cornettos that I love so much. So we went inside and I introduced her. She is now in love. As we were sitting there, Greta and Chiara show up! Only 30 minutes late. Silly Italians.

We go to the kebab shop, and I order but Beverley doesn’t. Then again, she ate breakfast AND lunch. I had yogurt. The kebab is AMAZING. It’s not a kebab on a stick like I am used to in the U.S. It is a sandwich, made of a pita pocket, stuffed full of beef and turkey meat, and any other toppings you could want. I was already full, but I had to try one.

After Greta, Chiara and I finished our kebabs, we said our goodbyes. Beverly and I wanted to go back and watch a movie, and Chiara and Greta didn’t really know what they were going to go do to kill the time. Greta and I promised to go dancing or do something soon. I haven’t seen her enough lately.

Beverley and I head back to my apartment. The next thing we know, this guy is coming up from behind us, asking “May I ask you something?” In ENGLISH. We were surprised that someone was talking to us in English, so we turn around to find this younger guy coming up from behind.

“Uhhh…yeah?”

“We are you from?”

“America.” “Canada.”

He proceeded to ask questions. Where was I studying? Do I live in Teramo? Where does Beverley live? He studied at L’Aquila. Do we know where that is? How long are we here? He hadn’t seen us around. When did we get here? Just questions that people don’t usually ask when they come running up after 2 girls they don’t know.

It was freaky.

And he was freaky-looking.

I don’t know if he was the same guy creepily hanging around at the ticket office. But I thought ticket-boy had a friend with him. This guy was all alone. But for some reason I think it IS the same guy, because he had acne scars all over his face. They just looked very similar.

It was a very awkward conversation. Usually, I can make those situations not so awkward, but Beverley and I were TRYING to make it obvious that we were uncomfortable. Not wanting to be mean, but still not wanting to encourage any more conversation, I answered his questions as shortly as I could. Beverley didn’t say much but kept giving him a look like, “Who the heck are you?”

His name was Jimmy. That’s a weird name for an Italian, I thought.

He asked if we wanted to get a drink with him, and thinking “Not if you were the last person on Earth and the continuation of humanity depended on us having a drink, would I go out with you,” I politely said that we had just eaten and were full, therefore we couldn’t possibly stand for a drink. I then said we should be heading back, and started walking. As we were leaving, he asks, “When will I see you again?”

Hopefully NEVER.

“Oh, you’ll see me around.”

We turned the other way, and walked. Beverly said, “We are NOT going back to your apartment right now.” I was thinking the very same thing.

After making a long detour back to my place, and after our hearts had decided to somewhat slow down from the freaky encounter, we finished off the bag of candy. We got ready for bed, and settled in to watch a movie on my computer.

As we crawled into our respective beds, we decided we would try to go to Giulianova the next day. It was supposed to be a pretty day, and Giulianova is right by the beach. By the time I fell asleep, I had nearly forgotten about Jimmy and was dreaming about spending a beautiful Sunday next to the Adriatic Sea.