All By Myself

I'm a big kid now...well sort of! (I don't remember what commercial that is from but something tells me it is a pull-ups commercial). Today I successfully picked up the keys to my new flat, checked out of my old one, ordered my lunch and my coffee...ALONE! Of course there was English spoken by the first two places but I spoke Italian at the other ones!

I picked up the keys to the new flat and I can't tell you how excited I am. The shower is awesome and I had to use all my will power not to take a one when I moved my stuff in! I checked out of the old place and I can't tell you how excited I am to be in the new place! I had my two huge suitcases, my duffel bag with my ski boots and other miscellaneous stuff, a bag full of foodstuff and a bag with all my shoes. Now my first thought was since I was only moving about half a mile I could just carry it all (for those of you aware of the proximity of my last place in Chicago and my current one it is just a little bit further than those two are away from each other). I decided that since the taxi was five euro for anywhere in the city I would just bite the bullet and pay for it. I check out...oh and on a side note I am so happy I will no longer have to pay twenty euro per person per night for visitors...and realize that the laundry truck has given me about six inches to open the door and get my things out. I understand why he is so close (the street is so narrow it makes Hudson back home look as wide as LSD) to the door but now I am forced to wiggle my suitcases out. The cab arrives and he packs me up and about a minute later we arrive at the new flat. He unloads me and then informs me that it is a three extra euro for my suitcases. Seriously? You just drove me half a mile for five euros! So I pay the money and he unloads my stuff to the curb.

Now of course between my getting all my things into the doorway a bus stops and pretty much unloads people right on top of my stuff. I get everything into the entrance way and into the elevator. I think I have all the numbering system of floors down pat now (zero is the bottom) so I press one. Nothing happens. I figure maybe because I have jammed myself and all my luggage into the lift I am over the weight limit so I put one suitcase outside and press one again...nothing. So I press two and up we go. Of course the door opens on the other side and I have to climb over everything (minus the suitcase I left at the bottom) to get out. Sure enough this is the floor. I unload and go back down to get the other suitcase but this time when I press two I go to the second floor. So then I get back in and press one and arrive where I need to be. Good thing I don't have to take that confusing thing on a regular basis! The new place is beautiful and I'm looking forward to getting everything unpacked for the first time...no I didn't unpack my suitcases for the first three plus weeks!

This is the living room and the bedroom of the new place although it is really one big room as the wall to the bedroom goes up about three quarters and there is not a door between the two.

Everyone had already left for lunch so I went to Noon and ordered my own sandwich and then to get some coffee. It was nice to be able to do things on my own today. Don't worry my bubble was quickly burst when I thought I was doing well enough to go to the post office and get stamps. I pulled a ticket (only two to choose from this time and since one had a letter and one had a euro symbol I was pretty sure my only choices were the post office and the bank so it was pretty easy) and waited in line practicing "how much does it cost for a letter to the US". When my number was called I went up and practiced my speech and of course he was confused. He told me (in Italian) that I should bring the letter to the post office to be weighed and then they would send it. The thought of having to wait in line every time I had to mail a letter didn't sound right...or fun for that matter. I tried to say that I wanted to send a normal or regular letter and he said something about the infamous Tabacchi shops. A kind man understood we were clearly having a communication problem and was able to help me understand that for a regular letter you could buy the stamps at the Tabacchi shop for 85 cents. I decided I was not up for another round of disappointment on my All By Myself Day so I headed back to the office.

UPDATE

I shared my saga at the post office with my coworkers and Elena was kind enough to tell me the post offices are an awful place (which I am well aware of but it was nice to have confirmed). She was also kind enough to look up the stamp prices and both her and Cristina agreed that they were pretty sure the 85 cent stamp did not exist. Armed with the printout from the potse italiane (which showed the 85 cent fee for a letter under 20 grams to zone 2) in hand I set off down the street to the Tabacchi shop all the way practicing in my head "do you sell 85 cent stamps". I arrive, ask for the stamps and lo and behold he says yes, how many (in Italian). Of course I hadn't thought about how many I wanted so I just said ten (in Italian) as it was the first number that came to mind! Jen Lau, I hope this was the happy ending you were looking for!