The Beginning

I am an English majour. I am going to Italy. I speak no Italian whatsoever.

How did this happen you ask? Why did you ever think this was a good idea you ask? Well, I wanted to go to South America, but I knew no Spanish which was a requirement for the program (though, strangely, it is not a requirement for my program). Then I wanted to go to Australia, but the February departure date meant an extra month of Buffalo winter, and missing Buffalo winter was the whole reason I was leaving in the spring anyway. So after that I figured Africa was a good choice. I always loved the savannah. But then, I realized any school I went to in Africa would probably not be rubbing shoulders with any lion prides.

So I started to look into Italy, and settled on if for the following reasons.

A. In March, it will be consistently 60. It will still be snowing at this time in Buffalo.
B. I did not have to learn any Italian before leaving.
C. Food is so important to the Italians, it's importance is not up for discussion.
D. The Renaissance. Enough said.

After this, a nightmare of paperwork and a hailstorm of emotions ensured, and then, what do you know? I'm heading to Lorenzo de'Medici school in Florence, Italy on the 26th on January, and be returning halfway through May. I'm leaving my family, friends, both my jobs, and pretty much everything else familiar and normal for this. I should probably be terrifed, or at least apprehensive, but I'm not.

We'll see if that changes.