When last I left you, I was living in my small apartment and getting ready to move into the new apartment with 5 Italians. So, on December 12 I stood outside in the rain and flagged down my roommate Silvia (her parents own the house) and we gathered my belongings in her small Italian car and drove the five minutes to where the other roommates—Carmello, Angelo, Giovantonio, and Emmie were waiting for me with open arms. They helped me get moved in, and then made me a big Italian dinner. Emmie would move out a week later, and we have now replaced her with a guy named Martin from the Czech Repubic, .and a French student named Xavier.
I spent the first two weeks alternately baffled and overjoyed as I discovered the secrets and eccentricities of the house. It’s the entire top story of a large building on one of the main avenues, five minutes from the train station, with 5 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a huge hall, common room, 3 balconies, and an additional split-level apartment for Giovantonio. The ceilings are VERY high…maybe 20 feet. The floors are tile. The windows are huge, with dark green shutters. The clunky elevator scares me to death—and I was stuck in it once for ½ hour. There are exactly 100 steps from the bottom to our front door. My key to the outside door has a sky-blue cover (called Celeste in Italian)…and the key to the apartment door is Royal Purple for the Royal Residence. That color I think is called Viola. The water is always too hot or too cold, and sometimes stops working altogether. The washing machine sounds like the boogey man, and if you don’t overload it then during the spin cycle it shimmies off the wooden slates and slams into the shower. It takes 3 days for clothes to dry on the racks. The light switches are illogical. The walls are paper-thin. It’s glorious.
I cannot get enough of this house. It’s sporadically noisy, quiet, busy, placid, freezing, and too hot. But there remains a permeating feeling of love and happiness.
MY ROOM (la mia camera letto): I wake up smiling every morning as the sun pours in through my large French doors that lead out to a small balcony, 5 vertigo-inducing stories above a classic narrow cobblestone Sicilian street. From my balcony I can gaze out over the rooftops—past my favorite place in Palermo (the ancient, open-air church Lo Spasimo) and to the Mediterranean Sea. Since Jake (the other American in town) lived in it before me, and Silvia was broken-hearted when he left, I rearranged everything in it so it looks and feels like an entirely new room. My clothes are in a wardrobe that fell apart one night and my male roommates put back together while the girls and I sat on the bed and drank wine and giggled at their display of machismo. My desk is not level, and things routinely slide off it. I found out that my desk is crooked because Jake had a vendetta against a particularly pugnacious mosquito and slammed his hand down and broke the desk; the mosquito survived to bite him another day. My bed is tiny, and feels like the one from my dorm room. I have a nightstand that is always covered in miscellany. And the floors are SOOOO cold. When I have money, I will buy an area rug in green and pink. And in the corner is my easel, where a painting that I am working on greets me every time I walk in. I loooove my room, my space, my solace.
COMMON ROOM (il salone/la cucina): Everybody hangs out in the large common room with a couch fit for Animal House, a dining table big enough for 20 (and is regularly filled with friends), and the 12 foot semi-nude woman poster suggesting dirty things (in Sicilian) to a former roommate. There is a huge fruit basket that is a take-a-penny-leave-a-penny ordeal, and bags of pasta on every surface. The fridge looks like Germany after WW2. The guys argue over the stove about ingredients, and how long to cook the pasta. There is espresso made every three or four hours. There is a balcony with an incredible view of the large avenue below to the train station and mountains in one direction, and towards the very center of Palermo in the other. If we’re ever bored, we stand out there and see if we can hit pedestrians with cooked noodles. Doesn’t hurt them, but provides endless entertainment for us. Can you imagine walking along and then having a wet, sticky noodle land on your face? Hee hee hee…
MY ROOMMATES (i miei coinquilini): Silvia (20), Xavier (22—Mar ‘85) Martin (22— Apr ‘85), Me (25—Dec ‘82), Angelo (25—Nov ‘82), Carmello (31), Giovantonio (32).
Before I moved in, I had spent some time with Silvia and Angelo…but almost none with Carmello or Emmie (and Martin and Xavier hadn’t arrived yet). While Liays had warned me that Carmello probably wouldn’t like me because of several reasons…the exact opposite has proven to be true. While I didn’t have much time to spend with the strange but pleasant, small stoner-girl Emmie…because of my work schedule I see Carmello everyday.
CARMELLO looks like a ski-bum. He has a full beard and longer hair. He’s intense, passionate, self-deprecating, a fantastic cook, and hates when women use bad words. And he is now (other than Silvia) my closest friend in the house. A self-proclaimed and proud Communist…he enjoys taking shots at my true American capitalist foundation, but also never steps over the line. He’s getting a PhD in engineering and I find him to be extraordinarily generous, patient, good-humored, and brilliant. I admire his brain and his wit. And, in turn I think he is alternately amused and bewildered by me. I’m the first American he has taken a liking to…in fact in a semi-inebriated state he admitted: ti volgio bene (I really like you). So, I feel good about winning over the potentially most cantankerous person in the house.
ANGELO is small, wiry, and intellectual…with a beautiful face, a nervous disposition, and moves with precision. He frequently adjusts his glasses, and seems uneasy most of the time…but then will find something funny and laughs easily showing a gorgeous smile. He’s hard to get to know, and mostly keeps to himself, even while in the same space. But I like him.
GIOVANNIANTONIO lives by himself in the split-level apartment with his two cats…although his gf Ornella is here almost all the time. He works in politics, is right-wing, and will probably be the president of Italy someday. He’s the consummate politician. Good-looking, extremely disciplined, and has an island-full of charm and wit. He’s magnanimous, intriguing, hospitable, welcoming, and razor-sharp. He’s like Bill Clinton…and I think has the same effect on women.
SILVIA is gorgeous with long, thick, dark, curly hair; freckles on her olive skin; bright and sparkly eyes, and a friendly mouth. She’s a dancer with lovely curves, and is studying languages. She’s the kind of woman that men fall for easily because she is gentle, feminine, mature, calm, smart, fun, and modest. I absolutely adore her. She and I get along really well—which is very important considering we’re the only women in the house. We talk about boys, love, family, school, traveling, language, friends, and so on. She and Jake are staying together, and I help her understand the American male mindset as much as I can.
MARTIN just moved in a few days ago. He is an Erasmus student…and since Davide is the R/A of the Erasmus program here, his job is to help get the new students dialed in. Since we had the open room, and Davide really liked and trusted Martin, we got a new roommate. He’s tall and Aryan. He plays the guitar and sings, and is very laid-back. I look forward to getting to know him more.
XAVIER is Martin’s roommate. He’s also on the Erasmus program. He speaks Italian and French but no English. And since Martin speaks English, Czech, and Slavic (but no Italian!)…it’s still a bit of a mystery to me how they communicate. But they sure seam to like each other. Xavier is the small, blonde French equivalent to Angelo. He is the newest addition to our big, happy, international family. We figured out the languages spoken here are: Italian, Sicilian, English, Spanish, French, Czech, Slavic, and Arabic. Mamma mia!!!
I am elated here with these people.
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