Bologna, Italy - The First Post

July 24, 2015

So, the big news is that I'm moving to Italy. The land of pizza, pasta, red wine and a guaranteed weight gain of approximately three stone; yep, very exciting.

The less fun part is the fact that I speak absolutely no Italian. Zilch. Nil. Nada. Actually, I can't even say that in Italian. 
So when Mum and I went last week to find me a flat, it was all rather interesting.

The first thing I learnt was that *sweeping statement alert*: Italians, on the whole, are quite rude. I'm ashamed to say that, other than a smattering of GCSE level French, I don't speak any other languages; but I usually manage to get by with some hand gestures, slow speech and a winning smile. (Maybe a little flirtation.)

The Italians, however, were having none of it. As far as they're concerned, if you don't speak Italian, you're not really worth the time of day. Now, as a person who, even in a rush, will willingly help out a foreign tourist looking for directions, I find that all a bit hard to understand - but whatever. There we were, in Bologna trying to find a flat, and getting absolutely nowhere.

And what does one do in that situation? Shop, obviously. Bologna is a tip top city for shopping - something I'm pretty thrilled about. As much as Italy has lots and lots to offer, it would be a bit of a shame to trade up London's many brilliant shopping spots for something below-par - especially if I'm there for a year.

We also ate. Pasta, arancini, pizza (twice), complementary aperito snacks with drinks (too many times to count). And drank. Pinoletto, Aperol, red wine... you name it, we drank it. It was a 45 degree heatwave and we spent all day traipsing from one side of the city to another with grumpy locals - so it was well deserved, believe me.

(The city is really very pretty. Can only apologize that there aren't more food pics - basically, I got too excited and ate it all too fast.)

Miraculously, by the end of the week, we did actually manage to find a flat. A real life flat, complete with lift, balcony and not one but TWO bathrooms. Which hasn't technically been signed yet - another thing I've discovered about Italians is they're not in a hurry to do anything. At all. Hence all the siestas and three hour lunch breaks.

So anyway, here's my inaugural Italian post - expect many, many more (All pizza, prosecco and party orientated, probably). Maybe I'll even buy a moped...

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