islanded in a stream of stars

I think I'm officially known at the Verona train station as that strange American girl who tried to reserve a spot on the Milano-Lausanne connection for a flying chair.

una sedia votelle: wheelchair
una sedia volante: flying chair

Ooops. This is what happens when you watch too many Pink Panther/Get Smart-ish things. The good news is that they gave me a refund on the tickets that I bought that were marked up ridiculously, although it was fun trying to explain the situation in my very limited Italian sprinkled awkwardly with French.

The people at the front desk of where I'm living are convinced that I slept with the friend who visited me this past weekend. It was the only way I could figure out how to sneak him in because technically we're not supposed to have guests stay over. Marco now gives me awkward winks, and I find it difficult to stifle giggling (yes, giggling) whenever I'm going in or out now. I've also come to the slightly depressing conclusion that the only way you can keep Italian men from openly oggling/calling you out is if you're in the company of another guy. The more awkward part was going into the cafés and random couples/parents looking at us, totally puzzled as to why we weren't holding hands or anything like that. I know Plato's Greek, but I would've expected that the concept of platonic friendship wouldn't be so novel over here, friends of different genders going out together. Or maybe I was just being especially self-conscious as my friend has a girlfriend but openly admitted that he's always liked Asian girls...and this was before he had anything alcoholic. Still, we did end up having a fun time.

I am convinced that we might've found the best gelateria in the heart of town near the Arena, but I think I need to go there more before I can be sure :D