idk

look mom its the vatican

vomit water art

the pantheon, there's two dead kings and a queen in there

these (what are they) are everywhere

a pinocchio/wood figurine shop i found, it's like disneyland but with no rides music ice cream or fun

wow she's beauty and she's grace

Hey there my little ramen noodles,

Things are on the up-and-down over here in spaghetti land.  After what feels like one hundred days of social abstinence, I took a break from talking to myself in the shower and making kissy lips at my pillows to go out to the zoo on Saturday with an au pair I met via Facebook.  I was hoping to see that all the animals lived on a diet of prosciutto and mozzarella, were mama’s boys, and had dark hair with olive skin.  But as it turns out, zoo animals don’t vary much from country to country.  Hippos around the world shit where they sleep.

Speaking of monkeys that eat each other’s back hair until they bleed, I went to a bar called the Drunken Ship to try some Italian beer.   I was actually having a fairly good time until born-and-raised-in-Rome Marco made a habit of placing his hand on my ass.   Like any strong and self-assured woman I jumped snorted and wormed my way to the bathroom, where I played Snood on my cell phone until my battery died.

Although I have yet to meet and marry my italian billionaire dreamboat man, I've finally got a handle on my work situation.  I mentioned before that I’m a nanny, a sarcastic Marry Poppins without the awesome magic powers.  Monday through Friday I’m responsible for a little boy named Edoardo, whose favorite activities are asking for mom and screaming his own name on repeat.  I ran into some issues earlier this week when I found myself working too many hours.  I was overwhelmed and frustrated and I couldn’t fix the television because there are literally more remotes than couch cushions and Edoardo wouldn't eat his cheese without Booboo from BabyTV on and I cooked pasta in the microwave because the stove kept clicking and I forgot to put little man's pajamas on before he ate so now his beige cashmere sweater sleeves are dip-died in ragu sauce and it took me over an hour to clean up after dinner because two year olds don’t have hands that work and how do you unclog Kinder chocolate from a sink drain?

After sobbing to my mother over Skype, I wiped the drool off my keyboard and emailed my host mom, insisting that we establish some sort of work schedule.  As it turns out, not being an introverted anxiety-ridden yuppie and just telling someone about your concerns makes change.  The past few days my schedule has completely opened up.  Instead of biting my fingernails and pacing around my bathroom, I’ve now had time during the day to trip over cobblestones in the park, stare at crumbling architecture, and shampoo when I shower.  Dreams do come true.

With my new happy peppy positivity, last night I decided to meet up with another au pair I found online because I’m queen of the internet. We spent the night drinking red wine from a coke bottle, peeing behind poorly parked Fiats and running around Rome in the rain looking for clubs open past 2 AM.  After watching a Brit Pop Rock band sing a beautiful ballad entitled “Just Fuck Off” twice, we found ourselves at a gay club that had been booked for a 14 year old’s private party.  Shout out to our boy Maurizio, happy birthday buddy!  The night ended in me sitting in a fluorescent-lit bus at a stop in front of the Monumento di Vittorio Emanuele II for 35 minutes alone, waiting for my bus driver to come to after falling asleep at the wheel.   I didn’t have the heart to wake him up.  Also I didn’t know how to say, “It’s 3 AM and you're drooling on the horn of a public bus when was the last time you looked at yourself in the mirror?” in Italian.

Ugh,

Kay

P.S. here he is look

help

The view from my room...

Piazza Popolo, that thing near my apartment

Well, I did it.  I’m in Rome.  In fact right now, I’m lying under the covers of my very white bed in my very white room.  I have a free hour, so instead of going for a run, I thought I would sit down and talk about myself on the internet.

First of all, Rome is insane.  It’s dirty, loud, and there are many very committed street artists and beggars on every corner.

I have yet to find the beauty in this city because I’ve been spending most of my time chasing after a car-obsessed two-year-old (I’m a nanny here, I’m not sure that I ever mentioned that) and wiping pizza grease off my t-shirts.  I really haven’t had time to look around.  I’ve been on a couple of walks down a popular shopping street, “Via del Corso,” because it’s close to home, so I’ve seen thousands of British tourists ask for the nearest bathroom, but I haven’t been able to do nearly as much exploring as I would like.  However, I was followed by a Bangladeshi man selling laser pens for three blocks after I accidentally dropped my keys and grumbled “wow what a world”, revealing that I was in fact an American tourist so there’s that.

I’m confused all of the time.  The lifestyle here is obviously very different, and I’m completely out of my comfort zone.  Also, the whole “not knowing the language” thing is really starting to get in the way of my communicating with people. 

Anybody who told you that “everybody speaks some English in Italy” is lying to you.  They don’t.  Just ask Mariella from the Wind mobile store on Viale del Muro Torto.  She will gladly stare back at you in silence, brow furrowed and finger tapping.  By the way, charades is not an acceptable way to purchase a cell phone plan.  I’m fairly certain that I accidentally entered into a five-year contract with Wind mobile.  I triple dog dare you to try and figure it out, here’s the link to their website: http://www.wind.it/it/privati/.  I purchased the “All Inclusive Ricaricabile, Verso Tutti 7 euro/mese” plan.  If you’re a language whiz and you really do figure it out, please let me know before I try to seduce Luciano, the store manager, into a loveless marriage to escape the horror of a 1,825 day phone contract.

After a few more disastrous interactions with the locals, and a quick emotional breakdown on the steps of Fontana di Trevi, I signed up for Italian classes at a language school with a bangin’ reputation.  You know, from the one person I asked about the school’s reputation. 

Now we should all keep in mind that I’ve only been here five days, which explains why I’m so completely overwhelmed with everything and anything help me I can’t breathe.

Gasping with love,

Kay

wow okay here it is

 ...a little gift i snuck in for little Edoardo!

SHUT UP EVERYBODY STOP TALKING AND FIGURATIVELY LISTEN TO THESE WORDS: I LEAVE TO ROME
T O D A Y.

In 12ish hours, I’ll be sitting on a shitty seat in the last row of Flight 136 beside a pack of wailing babies, lifting off toward tomorrow’s sunrise.

My nerves have formed what feels like a golf ball, lodged in my throat all week.  It’s like I’m constantly on the verge of throwing up, stripping down to my birthday suit, and locking myself in my bedroom and never leaving anywhere ever.  I haven’t taken a full breath since Saturday.  Five days ago, my stomach dropped and the little blue butterflies in my belly started to flap for their lives.  That feeling never went away, and now the butterflies have fluttered to each of my limbs, making my entire body feel like electrically charged jello.

Despite my hyperactive nerves, none of this feels real.  The only other time in my life where I’ve felt this way would be before the 2008 cross country Nike Team Nationals.  My team had a real shot at winning the national title, but only if each and every one of us ran perfectly.  I was the team’s number one runner at the time, so obviously there was extra pressure to place top 10.  It was freezing and my excuse for a uniform wasn’t doing much to fend of the inevitable post-race hypothermia.  And on top of all that, there was like, a really cute boy watching the race.  He was blonde and everything.  I was so nervous that day that I cried on the starting line.  I got a late start because as the gun fired off, I was desperately trying fix my mascara.  After all, there were photographers. 

I ended up breaking my leg in that race.  It essentially broke due to overuse.  I finished, but collapsed across the finish line like every heartfelt sports movie hero you’ve ever seen ever.

I have no idea what that anecdote means for this upcoming flight, but I can tell you that if I break my leg 35,000 feet in the air, I am going to lose my mind.

The past couple of weeks have consisted of excessive family bonding, goodbye dinner burgers, and racing around town to pick up another pair of underwear.  I also went to a big cat museum/zoo/center and watched a black jaguar rip apart a chicken.

I’m ready.  I’ve got some fancy man euros, comfy boot shoes, and a new toothbrush (Oral B wow great job!).  Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go pack.  Because I still haven’t done that yet.

Love and hugs,

Kay

P.S. i want to thank my family for being so incredibly wonderful and supportive and goofy and embarrassing and lovely.  i'll miss you loads, but I look forward to our excessive Skype-ings!

T-12 Days

HI HELLO HEY

My name is Kaylin, and if you're reading this, you're probably one of three friends of mine that clicked the link I shared on Facebook.  With this fancy man blog, I plan to post beautimous pictures and tell y'all over exaggerated stories from my upcoming trip to Europe.  I fly out in twelve days, to live with a wonderful family of three in the center of Rome.  Note the underwhelming "K to Rome" scribbled on the family calendar, with a recent message tacked on by my wonderful and worried friend Paige.

Now, I don't really speak all that much Italian, and I've never been out of the country, so this should be, if nothing else, an adventure.  To make this happen, I temporarily dropped out of Columbia University (I DO intend to go back Dad, stop pacing, you'll wear out the carpet) and picked up a couple jobs in my hometown, Los Angeles.  For the past month and a half, I've been driving around a charming 87 year old woman named Rose in the mornings, and in the afternoons I "work" as a video game tester for Disney.  I know.  Since the end of last semester, I've been preparing myself for the big move.  Buying gadgets (camera, backpack, etc.), studying italian, giving myself pep talks in the mirror...

I'm ready, man.  I got my passport in the mail today, I called my grandmother... it's happening.  My dreams are coming true, and I can't wait to blab all about it!

Until next time,
Kay