Pasta, Pizza and a Pair of Prada Sunglasses

Hey Everyone! Sorry we haven't written for a while, our only excuse is that we are fully embracing Italian life and have adopted "lazy gobshite" as our middle names! We've had an exciting few weeks and have visited Milan, Pisa & Lucca. We're hoping with all the travelling we've done that we'll become officially sponsored by Trenitalia. More student loan anybody?

Speaking of train journeys, our experiences have been some what eye opening!!!

En route to Parma, we encountered some very strange characters indeed. Our favourite was most definitely the black Muslim preacher who got on the train wearing white plastic flip-flops (in November!!!), a long royal blue robe and a woollen bobble hat! Ok, we thought, not everyone is blessed with the impeccable Italian fashion sense (ha! ha!), but all attempts of trying to remain open-minded went out the window when he pulled out a razor and started shaving his beard in the window of the train.

For the next 10 minutes we were subjected to the grating sound of razor on dry stubble. Just when we had got used to the merciful sound of train on tracks, our friend "Muslim man" began to serenade us, selecting favourite songs of ours FROM A MUSLIM PRAYER BOOK. We obviously missed the part in the Karan where it says that on long train journeys one must recite Muslim hymns whilst balancing bobble hat on head!!! Don't ask!

Back to life in Parma, we are pleased to report that there have been significant advancements regarding our relationship with "Veg-girl". We've never mentioned Veg-girl in our blog before, for the fear of finding a horse's head in our bed (she's not very nice!!!). Veg girl, funnily enough, works in our local veg shop and, although we are regular customers, the only interaction made on her behalf is: "Do you want a bag for that?". However, two days ago, a revolution took place. After 8 weeks of giving her our "hard earned" student loan, in exchange for some measley pieces of veg, she actually asked us where we were from!!!! Either our Italian wasn't very good or she's not a fan of Good Ol' Blighty because the conversation ended abruptly there.

Today, when we were supposed to be doing work, we felt the need to embark upon another cultural experience-so we went shopping!!! I (Jenn) bought some lovely leather brown boots, which had the added bonus of letting the buyer know whether you have fat calves. When I realised (no matter how much I tried) that I couldn't get my legs in the boots, I thought I'd have to go elsewhere despite these boots being "the ones". But no, au contraire, in Italy for all us fat calved foreigners they provide a fantastic service (not good for your self esteem mind you). The "kind" Signora behind the counter told me she could quite easily stretch the boots for me if I wanted to come back in a couple of hours.

Normally, I would've cast her a haughty look, sucked in my stomach and walked out of the shop, but as these boots were "the ones" I swallowed my pride and went for it. Now I'm the proud owner of a lovely pair of Italian leather, calf hugging brown boots. Is this what they mean by la Dolce Vita???

For those of you who are fans of Carrie & Co.s saucy antics in the big apple in the famous series Sex & the City, we dedicate this entry to the bigger, better, sexier, shenanigans of the Parma people in the Park! We salute you!

You see, a leisurely stroll for Hannah and I through our local park in Parma not only consists of the lovely Autumn leaves falling from the trees, the occasional Italian child, whizzing past on their bike or the view of the geese gliding along the lake, but also the embarrassing sight of 2 Italian lovers re-enacting all the positions of the Karma-Sutra. The only consoling factor in this GREAT display of affection is the fact that they still have their clothes on. If Hannah & I owned a video camera with X-ray vision, we could make a fortune in the Pornography industry.

Our interactions with the extrovert race known as the "Italian" doesn't stop there, however. During another leisurely stroll of ours (yes, we don't really have much to do here!!!), through the city centre, we came across an old gentleman, who looked at us a little perplexed. You might be thinking (as did we), that he's going to stop us and ask for directions. We soon discover however, that our gentleman friend is not lost, but has simply preyed upon us to vent his anger on the cost of bread & vegetables nowadays. Another experience of ours, albeit a less pleasurable one, was when we went into the local hotel, to enquire about room prices. We'd not been stood at the counter for more than 2 minutes, when an old Italian man, turns around, and shouts at us "fing tourists"!!! You can imagine our shock considering we had been speaking Italian to the receptionist, and we were generally minding our own business. Now you can see why we've had to make adjustments to our swearing: it's necessary to be able to communicate with the old people of Parma.

Last but not least, we'd like to mention a new phenomenon we've encountered here in Italy. That of furry tea. Recent studies have shown that:
"English tea" (i.e. PG Tips/Tetley) + Parmalat milk = furry tea!!!
We've learnt the hard way, that due to this chemical reaction, one must only drink three quarters of one's tea.

This is the account of Jenn and Hann's lives so far in Italy. From Venice to Bologna to Parma and Rome! All in less than 3 weeks!

For those of you who've never visited Italy before, you've probably got images of hot, sultry summers, gorgeous Italian men, the best cuisine in the world and fashion at it's best. Scrap that, rewind, and let us take you on a journey through the Italy that we've come to know!

We've been in Italy for over 3 weeks now and as well as improving our language skills, we've also had to make significant adjustments to our patience, eyesight, tastebuds, time keeping and above all our swearing. These adjustments coupled with the lack of essential items such as blu-tack, duvet covers, A4 lined paper and post-it notes, costing under £6, has made for a frustrating first few weeks in Italy.

Ok, let's start at the beginning. We're living in Parma, a small city in Northern Italy, the birth place of Parmesan cheese, Parma ham and Parma Violets. We share a small but cosy appartment with our landlord Francesco, who, after extensive investigation, (and much to our disappointment,) turned out not to be a member of the Mafia.

The appartment has its...quirks, shall we say. There's the string in the shower, which when pulled rings the front door bell, the cheerful clouds that have been painted onto my (Hannah's) ceiling, the fortress like window shutters which once shut form a barrier, laughing at the sun's pathetic attempts of penetrating the appartment with its rays. (11 o'clock has now become our usual wake up time, as we can no longer tell when daylight has arrived).The hall light, which lets off a shrill buzz when pressed each time as if it's angry at us and finally the "sofa", which requires the aid of professional climbing equipment to get off it. However, we have actually come to think of this appartment as home, (well we have no bloody choice really).

In response to the influx of queries about our landlord Francesco, here's a whole paragraph dedicated just to him.

He's from giu (down South)and has been living in Parma for 7 years. He's become the godfather for taking in poor, non Italian speaking Erasmus students, like ourselves. As we've mentioned already, we've made extensive investigations for evidence of Mafia connections, in the meantime we think Francesco may have made his own investigations into any lesbian activity between Hannah & myself!!! Mens fascination with lesbians really is a universal thing!!! He works buying & selling parts for machinery (or is that really code for importing machine guns for Mafia bosses????). Although he doesn't speak any English, he understands a lot, although we have yet to master the art of Italian sign language. For example, last week Francesco decided to go out jogging, so in order to communicate to us that he didn't have his house key, and therefore did not want us to lock the door when we went out, he waved a bunch of keys in front of my (Hannah's) face. Now, is it just me, or does someone waving a bunch of keys in your face imply that said person has said keys?

Top tip for living in Italy: whatever the logical explanation of something is, reverse it, and that's usually the right answer.

If we had applied said rule to the key incident Hannah would not have received a text message from Francesco saying he had to break into the appartment from his balcony. (Note, a skill synonymous with the Mafia).

Finally, after 3 weeks touring round Italy, our language has come on quite a bit. However, there have been a few hiccups along the way. In Rome Jenn fancied a nice ice-cream. The flavour she wanted was called Bacio (which means kiss in English). She wanted it in a large cone and therefore (logically you may think), asked for "Un grande Bacio". Strangely, she found herself surrounded by hysterical laughter and it was not until the ice cream seller told her that she could have due grandi Baci that she realised she'd asked said ice cream seller for a big kiss!!! Our unintentional flirtations with Italian men doesn't stop there however. I (Hannah) was looking forward to a quiet evening in with a book and a cup of tea. Francesco asks me what my plans are for that evening. I reply "a little bit of internet, a little bit of reading and a little bit of tea"(un po' di te'). Francesco looks at me a little bewildered. It's only when I retire to my room that I realise that my Bristolian accent has let me down. 'Un po' di te(as said with my accent)translates as "a little bit of YOU" Francesco didn't know whether to be happy or to be dissappointed to discover that Jenn and I were not lesbians after all!!!! Learning a language is a dangerous job. And with that thought we'll leave you until our next installment! Ciao x