How I Found My Apartment in Florence, Italy

When I was first looking for my own apartment after leaving my au pair family, I had no idea what to expect. Not only is finding an apartment in Florence much more difficult than I thought (and that's saying a lot coming from LA where finding a decent apartment for a decent price is like searching for a needle in a haystack), it is even more stressful to find the right people to live with. As an American, I was worried about living with random people from other cultures, who would basically be the equivalent of Craigslist roommates. Would my stuff get stolen when I'm not home? Will I feel safe? Would there be huge, awkward and unmanageable cultural differences? Will I wake up to my toes being sucked on? Um, I'll pass, thanks. But no judgements if you're into that type of thing. Do you, boo boo!

"Is it cool if I shave my pubes in here?"

First, I was looking exclusively for American expats and other English teachers to live with. When that proved difficult, I expanded my search to American students at the study abroad universities. Little did I know, the school organizes all their housing for them, so I had no options in that category. Next, I began looking into local Italian university students. I figured there had to be someone renting a room near campus. But, once again, no such luck. Either I had to share a room with an 18 year old girl with our two rickety twin sized beds crammed in the room, or I was 3 weeks too late since the semester had already started and everything was taken. If it wasn't that, and I actually managed to schedule a meeting with someone to see the room for rent, it was cancelled when I was on my way. Or, when they would write me after I'd been waiting near the building 20 minutes after our appointment time saying it was already rented and they forgot to tell me. That was the worst. I cursed all Italians for wasting my time and my best friend got a very angry Whatsapp voice message of me venting my hot air that day. I was a poet with my profanities, which I'm still kind of proud of.

My apartment search was taking longer than I was hoping, so out of desperation, I began looking on every lamp post, website and bulletin board in the city for an ad in my price range. Without much luck online, and calling the numbers of old flyers in the library just to be told in Italian that the room had been rented, I was seriously considering living under a bridge. Homelessness doesn't sound like such a bad idea when disguised as an adventure! Finally, I heard of a Facebook page that is a place where people advertise rooms for rent in the city. Apparently Craigslist isn't really a huge thing here, but it does exist. Who knew that website where you waste so many hours of your life at a time would actually be useful here!

With more denials and more frustration, I had to expand my search yet again. This time, it was considering living with the opposite sex. As I thought about all the awful (and/or amazing) things that could happen living with boys, I cringed and fantasized at the same time. After only a few inquiries, I got some serious responses. This got my thinking, are they only responding because of my profile picture? I took a chance and went to see them anyway. After seeing a place that could only be described as sticky, decorated with Infected Mushroom posters and empty bottles of SKYY, it was a relief to see the next place. Sure, there was a centimeter of dust covering the tile floor and an old couch upside down in a space that maybe was supposed to be a living room, but it felt good. There were two Italian guys, who couldn't have been more opposite in style and demeanor, but they were nice, and I didn't get creepy vibes from them at all. Those could have been infamous last words, but thankfully, it was true. They had just rented the whole apartment after the last tenants left, who were apparently disgusting students and left everything a mess. They were in the process of cleaning everything out and getting ready to move in. It was going to be a fresh start.

I moved in two days later into my own room, with clean floors, newly painted walls, a few pieces of old furniture, and I even managed to get a double bed. It's common in Italy to tie together two twin sized beds to make a matrimoniale (king size bed), since it's cheaper than to buy a large bed in one piece, not to mention easier to move in through the small hallways and doors. So, with a few zip ties, some elbow grease to reuse some of that old furniture and a trip to IKEA later, I was all settled in.

I live with three Italian boys, 2 of whom are students, and the other is a sommelier at a restaurant, which means a constant stock of good (not to mention free) wine. Score! They're not so bad, although one of them barely speaks English and the other two are a bit rusty, it's been a lot of fun. The cultural differences and language barriers were hilarious in the beginning, but now we are actually learning from each other. I have some great stories which I will share in future posts. Stay tuned!

Do you have any hilarious/weird/gross apartment searching or roommate stories? Share in the comments below!

Reverse Culture Shock: Returning Home After Being Abroad

It's a strange thing you feel when you realize you no longer fit into your native culture the way you used to. Traveling changes you, opens your eyes, your heart and your mind. After being in the US for almost a month and coming back to Italy, I see a lot of differences in myself I hadn't noticed abroad, as well as seeing my own culture through a new lens.

The first week back home in LA was kind of a blur. I was jet-lagged, scrambling to see my friends and family, and constantly thinking about my visa application I had submitted the day after I landed. Being surrounded by the people I love was a great feeling and I really missed everyone, but I couldn't help but notice something was...off. With every conversation I had, my suspicions had grown into the obvious truth: I don't fit here anymore. While everyone around me seemed to be talking about money, status, and striving for the way to live, I found myself witnessing things as an outsider. Sometimes I felt like I wasn't even in the room. I didn't relate to anything they were talking about anymore and that's when I realized.


I've changed, I've grown.


I don't see it as a bad thing, but I knew that I felt different. I'd been living in another country for the past three months and have grown accustomed to the Italian ways of doing everyday things, so of course I felt out of place. I had forgotten what full-fledged capitalism felt like. Everyone-out-for-themselves-dog-eat-dog-money-hungry hustling. Oh yeah...this is America. I was now seeing what people from other countries were talking about when they spoke about typical American culture. It was weird seeing my own culture through a semi-Italian lens. I'm not saying it's bad or wrong to think or behave the way most Americans do, it's just different than what I had gotten used to. I was forced to adapt, but I had done it much better than I realized. Italians are about family, community and helping each other out. I will admit, I had a pretty hard time taking help when I first arrived. I had my American pride. I wanted to figure things out on my own, get what I needed, and feel proud to say that I did it myself. But this way of thinking caused me a lot of frustration and it wasn't until later that I realized I need people around me to care and want to help. Once I accepted that, I felt much more at home. Call it maturation, realizing I can't do it all on my own, or adapting to the Italian way. Whatever the reason, I needed to be humbled, and I was. After awhile, I found myself helping people out whenever I could, too. Plus, you know, seeing confused tourists looking at an upside down map just got annoying, so I figured I might as well try to be part of the solution for everyone and send their simple asses on their way. The sidewalk needed to be cleared for people who actually have somewhere to be. You're welcome, Florence.




"Where is the Duomo? I can't see anything with this huge church in the way!"


Another thing I noticed was how inadequate I felt when my friends talked about their ambitions. According to everyone around me, at my ripe age of a 20-something with a college degree, I should have started a full-time career with benefits by now, living in my own apartment, and planning my next steps for the future. In Italy, I literally have none of those things. I am barely getting by stringing a few part-part-time jobs together to pay for the room I rent in an apartment with my three Italian boy roommates, I'm without health insurance and I am nowhere near being financially stable as someone my age "should be".

I have no idea what my 5-year plan looks like. I can barely see past next week, let alone five years from now! I do, however, get drunk on fancy Italian wine a lot, so there’s that. It felt so great being back in LA (sarcasm alert--read: It fucking sucked). Yes, I also saw that so-and-so from high school is working at that big company with a nice salary and is newly engaged, thanks Mom, now get off Facebook. Is it just me, or does it seem like social media was specifically designed to allow people to over exaggerate small bullshit victories solely to make other people jealous, yet we all secretly feel insecure so we continue the cycle of bragging to make ourselves feel better? Nobody seriously loves their job that much or truly can’t get over how amazing their significant other is to where they have to tell the world every fucking Monday and Wednesday how in love they are or how hot they think their boyfriend is. Yes, we get it. Woah, that escalated quickly. What was I saying? Oh, right, my crappy little life.




Sounds way more awesome if you ask me.


But in all seriousness, it was much different being home than I imagined. First I didn’t want to have to go because I felt I was just getting into the rhythm of things in Italy, then when I knew there was no getting around it, I got excited to go and see my friends and family and be somewhere familiar and actually be able to talk to people in public. Then, once I arrived, my expectations were completely turned upside down and I felt like an alien. The hardest part was feeling disconnected from my friends. They were talking about the same old things and there I was, having only been gone three months, yet feeling I lived on another planet for a year. On the bright side, everyone told me I seemed happier than ever. That much was true. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter what my job is, how much money I have, or what people expect of me; I made the leap to do something not many people I know would have the guts to do. For that much, I am proud. I have the courage, ambition and faith to follow my dreams. During those times I start to get down on myself when I think of where I thought I would be at this point in my life, the career I wanted and the type of American Dream I had when I was younger, I have to stop and realize that I am doing something amazing and completely different than I thought, but in the best way possible. It takes time to build something out of nothing, and that’s exactly what I’m doing—starting my life in another country. After all, Rome wasn’t built in a day.

Teaching English Abroad: How I Made The Decision (The Real Story)

I can't believe my TEFL course is almost over! 11 weeks went by really fast, and soon after I'm finished there will only be 12 more weeks until I'm off to Europe. I definitely had higher hopes for how much I would have in savings right about now, but things don't always go as planned. I started a GoFundMe account which you can donate to here (please help spread the word)! Hey, if some random girl can get her irresponsible trip to Vegas paid for by strangers, then I should definitely be able to get my teaching trip paid for. I haven't lost hope in humanity yet...don't let me down!

As I mentioned in another post, I started working as a substitute teacher for extra income and to prepare me for my own classroom. It's been fun and nerve racking at the same time. Although, I wish it was more consistent. I'm beginning to worry I won't be going to Europe with the fat savings account I was looking forward to. I never understood how other blogs only highlight the awesome stuff and give the illusion that dropping everything and just going is something can that be done in a day. For me, the decision had been building, but I guess the official verdict did actually happen over night. Some of you have been asking how I came to this point and how I decided. So, here's my story.

After graduating in the fall, and taking way too long to get to that point, I really couldn't think of a job I wanted to go after. So many of my friends had known exactly what they wanted to do way before they graduated and it always secretly worried me that I didn't have that. I wasn't one of the lucky ones in that sense. After taking some exploratory classes, I majored in sociology, which came easily to me. Throughout school I took tons of extra humanities classes, but never enough in one subject to earn a minor because, apparently, I have ADD and like to make things difficult for myself. By the time I graduated, I had traveled to Italy (twice), worked at multiple internships and had a well-rounded resume from all my jobs in high school and college. I worked as a preschool teaching assistant my sophomore year on a work study program and I can honestly say, that was my favorite job. The only problem was that I didn't want to be a teacher, so I didn't see it benefitting me in the future other than learning lots of patience and gaining some parenting skills (seriously, anyone in college who thinks they want to have kids at any point in their lives should spend a week in a toddler classroom-- holy fuck). Having to take a closer look at myself when the high of finishing school had dissipated, I began searching tirelessly for jobs in all the fields I had experience in. I had a great resume and impeccable cover letters, but I just couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling of dread when thinking about sitting in an office all day being a part of the corporate American rat race.

I found myself searching around for international jobs in my down time, which is when it hit me. What's stopping me from going? Absolutely nothing. I just finished school, had no tangible job leads, I had no mortgage, no kids, and no real responsibilities that couldn't be taken care of remotely. That was the "over night" decision I was talking about. I had no plan and surely no specific job in mind, but I had to find a way to do this. Traveling had been my dream since I was 9 after learning about the magic that is the rain forest in Mrs. Meyer's fourth grade class. My family is not rich and my mom didn't even get her passport until I decided I wanted to take advantage of a summer and travel abroad for the first time after saving all spring, so this was going to take a lot of work.

One night, during my boyfriend's lunch hour, I showed up and surprised him. A lot had been on my mind during that time when the high wore off and I needed to see how far I was going to take this idea of mine. As he sat across from me at the table consuming his food, I sat there silently until finally I blurted out "I think I want to start applying for international jobs". At that point, that's as far as I had gotten and wasn't prepared to answer any of the questions he had, but was surprised when he finally reached across the table, took my hand, looked at me and said "I know this is something you've always wanted to do and traveling is your passion, so I'm not going to be the one to stand in your way". I broke into tears in the middle of a quiet Panera Bread, and all I could say was thank you. From then on, I began my search. I had looked into teach abroad programs before and had even been in talks with an advisor from International TEFL Academy 3 years before, but the timing wasn't right since I was still in school and was only flirting with the idea. A few weeks after the talk with my boyfriend, I get a phone call from that same advisor. Out of blue. On my birthday. I couldn't believe it. He didn't even know it was my birthday (I asked him later), which is when I couldn't call it a coincidence any more, even though I don't believe in coincidences in the first place. I took a bit more time to consider my options, but what I was really doing was planning how to put my deposit down for the class and where I wanted to go. A few weeks later, after many phone calls and emails with Matt The Advisor, I took the leap and registered for the next class. That was my move and everything from that point on was going to be different. Since January when I enrolled, I have asked my boss for more hours at work, gotten a second job as a sub to save money and work around my main schedule as a nanny, and used my tax return to buy my plane tickets. This shit is real. I honestly can't believe how everything seemed to fall into place for me to get me where I am, which is why I am not as worried as I should be about my current savings account. There is just this serene sense of faith I have that I am right where I am supposed to be and I couldn't be happier.

My ticket is non-refundable since I got the cheapest price possible, and I will soon be TEFL certified, so there is no turning back now. I started going through my stuff and donating clothes, and trying to sell things I don't need. When the time gets closer, my furniture will be split between a storage unit and keeping it at the apartment to loan to my boyfriend for the time being, but that's another worry entirely. For now, I am just focusing on being as cheap as possible cutting way back on brunch with friends and Friday nights out. I have a goal that is growing nearer and nearer, so from now until July, I will be pinching those pennies.