Sometime ago I have decided to participate in a project, that describes one day of my ordinary life. It was my third week in Italy and I was pretty stressed, cause I was expecting a package and it was a bit late – I have sent myself a piano from Riga so that I could practice at home and not wait 60000000 hours in the academy for a free room. So, this day describes how I was running around Rome in search of a piano.
So, my day starts at 8am. Allthough my alarm says “Academy” I’m not going there, I’m going to the post office, that’s just one stop from me by metro.
But first – a cup of coffee. Here’s a bit of my kitchen an coffee making ritual.
My landlady has 4 children, two of them have their own children and they (as all children do) draw paintings to their loved ones. My landlady is always proud of everything they do, so she hangs these drawings in the kitchen. I must say that as a first thing i see in the morning it’s quite nice, sweet and cute.
Before going to the post office I’ve prepared myself a “savior” – I’ve asked one of my Italian friends to translate a phrase “I am expecting a package from Riga, but because of an incorrect address it might have been lost. Here’s the tracking number, please, help me find it. Thank you.” Later that day I found out that it was a good idea to prepare a phrase like that, because no one in Rome speaks English.
In Rome I live near Tiburtina station, it’s the second biggest railway station in the city, and it also has a metro station.
I find Rome metro very well made – it has elevators for invalids, station plans for blind people, metro maps of every line, screens with the timetable, you don’t have to wait long for the train and almost every time you can find a place to sit down when you’re actually in the train. Except for rush hours of course, then I prefer skipping trains and waiting for empty ones, because I don’t enjoy the feeling of a fish in a can that much. Anyway, here’s my station.
So, the post office where I’m heading is only one stop from Tiburtina. 5 minute ride and I’m at the post office. To my luck there was one guy that spoke English a bit (not perfect, but enough to communicate). This boy helped me with the tracking number, even walked me through the warehouse of the post office, but unfortunately was not able to find my package. But he was kind enough to give a phone number where I should call and ask about the package, because since the address was incorrect it was probably sent to another warehouse, where they take care of the packages that are mmm… not needed. That’s why I’m going back home, now I have to find someone to make a call, because I doubt that the info number of a post offices warehouse has anyone English speaking, and my Italian is no good at all. Especially on the phone.
And I’m back at the metro station but I’m skipping one train because of this “fish-in-a-can” thing.
It didn’t take long to receive an email from my land lady’s daughter, the one that speaks English, with an address, where my package is being held. Here’s an interesting fact about Italian post: if the package isn’t needed of if the address is incorrect, local post office rejects the package and sends it to another warehouse. While doing that they give the package a NEW tracking number (WHYYY???), that’s why local postal services are not able to find it in their system. That’s a pile of cr*p, that’s my opinion. It complicates things, I honestly can’t understand why they do that, would be much easier to find the package with only one tracking number, but that’s the way things work there, who am I to tell them how to run their postal services? That’s right, no one, so I’m zipping it.
A new destination has been set – some address out of Rome. My neighbor Katrina is going with me, cause the package is big, I might need some help with that (in addition to that she was bored). Back to the metro station.
The road to this new destination takes us a bit more that we expected. We have arrived to a station called Ponte Mammolo – it’s a station that is actually on the ground, not under. A cute and small station, that has mini markets on it. Markets are full with offertas (as usual), that’s a way to spend some time while waiting for the bus that will take us somewhere weird – no roads for pedestrians…
It was an hour later when we finally received my package. Happy, but not for long. My piano got damaged on the way to Rome. Apparently someone dropped it and I was stupid enough to unpack it when we were half way to the bus station, so we can’t prove anything. And I don’t speak Italian to argue with anyone.
So we’re going home. I’m in a very bad mood. I have planned a lot of things for the evening, but if the piano is broken for good, I’m not sure I’ll be in the mood for any attractions today.
I’m sad and disappointed. The piano is unpacked and I have to check if it’s even working.
It’s working!!!!! That’s a relief. No I can get ready for my evening.
Today I’m going to a club named Ketumbar to listen to a girl from the conservatory – a singer named Rafaella. I’ve heard she sings good, and that’s what I’m going to check out. Makeup, a glass of wine, bag packed and I’m gone!
Rafaella turned out to be a wonderful singer! Her voice is adorable, she is adorable, the bar was adorable, that was a nice ending of the evening! Thanks to Sara Jane and Ann that they talked me into going.
I know that all the text written here is a bit ludicrous, but it was quite a challenge to translate everything from the original (it took me a couple of days to make the original one), and I cut out all the pictures of food :) But I hope it describes a bit how I spend my days in Rome – with adventures!
And in case you speak Russian – here’s a link to the original post!