Don't worry, this story ends well.
So this one weekend, we decided to try to go to Bologna for a day. Nicole and I are not the best at getting up early, and are pretty much always late for everything. Plus we live 45 minutes to an hour away from the train station, about as far as any of the students in this program can possibly get. Not being completely aware just how far away we were, we decided to walk. I think you can tell what's going to happen next.
Of course, we got there barely in time to make the train, having sprinted the last portion of the way after bumping into our very talkative program director and avoiding the inevitable long (but nice, of course!) conversation that would have resulted if we hadn't told him right away that we were "in ritardo" (late). The guy in front of us in line for the ticket booth couldn't seem to figure out how to order his tickets, and we watched the minutes tick by until we had officially missed our train. Sweaty, cranky, and ticket-less, Nicole and I spotted our salvation across from the train station. A gigantic golden M.
I know what you're thinking. McDonald's?! When there are thousands of delicious eateries around full of fresh pasta, pizza, and pastries?! It may have been an insult to Italian cooking, but at that moment McDonald's was just what we needed. Plus, McDonald's in Italy is WAY better than in America (keeping with the general trend of all Italian food as compared with American food). Chicken sandwiches have mushrooms in them (!!!) and can be ordered with curly fries (!!!). So we sat and ate our curly fries and watched people walk in and out of the train station, starting to feel a little more optimistic about our messed-up plans.
On the way back toward the center of Padova, Nicole and I were chatting when suddenly I felt a *plop* right on my coat shoulder. I looked over, saw a greenish mess and started (what else?) wailing in the middle of the street. Yup, a pigeon pooped on me. It's something I've feared my whole life, except I always thought it would be a seagull. Nicole started using a tissue and anti-bacterial hand gel to get it off while I continued to wail and moan dramatically-a combination which caused many Italians in the area to stare at us. About two seconds after causing a scene, we were able to laugh hysterically.
All of these unfortunate events lead me to the real reason why I'm writing about this day, which is because after the missed train and the fast food and the bird poop, our luck turned around and brought us to the coolest thing I have seen in Padova so far: the Antique Market. Circling the entire Prato della Valle (the gorgeous piazza filled with statues and a big fountain pretty close to where we live) and showing up every three weeks, the Sunday Antique Market is full of treasures. I think I would live here just for that market. I literally just want to take my favorite items from all the carts and arrange them in my own eclectic apartment or house in Padova. We saw gorgeous old, gilded furniture and collections of African and Asian artwork. Not to mention old typewriters, cameras, and stylish telephones that make me wish we still used landlines as often as our cell phones. We found a woman's diary too, with the most delicate drawings and calligraphy decorating some of the pages inside. I'm pretty sure we walked around about three times, knowing we probably weren't going to buy anything but just wanting to keep looking anyway. The market definitely made my afternoon.
It was totally worth the bird shit, I'm telling you.
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"It was totally worth the bird shit, I'm telling you."
ReplyDeleteThat's why you're my hero! Haha!