I left Portland, Oregon, my home town, for my first-ever European adventure, on September 3rd, 2009. I was about to study abroad in the far-away land of Italy, in the magnificent, hilly town of Paderno Del Grappa. I had never heard of the town before I learned of its Semester Abroad opportunity.
My flight plan was Portland to Chicago, Chicago to Munich, Munich to Venice, and Venice to Paderno Del Grappa via other small towns in between. I was very excited to make pit stops in each of the cities preceding Paderno because I had only heard about them, and now I was finally going to see them for myself! I was about to begin the adventure of a lifetime.
I decided that it would be fitting to enjoy one last American meal before I left Chicago for Munich, so I went for the most American restaurant of them all: McDonald's. The Coca Cola and Quarter-Pounder with Cheese would become distant memories of my homeland, and they already have.
My overnight flight to Munich was very, very long but enjoyable, thanks entirely to the free movies provided. As I waited for my flight to Venice a woman approached me and asked me a question in German. I happen to speak no German at all, so all I could give in return was a blank stare. All that I could think to say was "I don't know." She realized that I spoke English and, thankfully, switched to my language. She had asked me if I was reading the newspaper to my right, and I told her that I was not. We talked for a little bit (she wasn't the least bit shy about sitting down next to me) and she told me that she had taken business trips to many places, but never the United States, and that she had known a man from Portland. I did not find out what her name was because it never came up. We were in the same terminal because she was waiting to fly to Marseilles, France and her gate was in the same terminal. The highlight of the conversation was my attempt to explain to her the Red Bull Flugtag, the annual downtown Portland in which teams construct crude, themed aircrafts and roll them off of a ramp and into the Willamette River. I mentioned the event because I thought that perhaps the event originated in Germany. She had no idea what I was talking about.
My plane arrived at last and I flew to Venice, where I spent two days sightseeing with another student with whom I had rendezvoused at the airport. I reveled in the fact that I was a foreigner, that no one knew me, and that I could explore to my heart's content. I was fortunate enough to get directions to Paderno from my hostel manager. I recommend the Antico Capon in Venice's Plaza Santa Margherita because they have a generous manager and a wonderful restaurant in the lower half of the building. It was there that I learned that a lemon soda in Italy is straight lemon juice.
When it was time to move to Paderno we took a train to Castelfranco, as the directions dictated. It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon, but unfortunately the bus that we needed to ride to Paderno was not running. After nearly two hours of waiting for the bus that would not come, we called a taxi and were in Paderno in twenty minutes. The taxi driver spoke no English, but I used my newfound broken Italian to have a conversation with him. That night we stayed in the Hotel San Giacomo, across the street from the Insituto Filipin, the campus on which the program was to be conducted. We spent the night at the pizzeria with other students from the program and moved to the campus the next morning.
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