Flying to Italy!

This blog is dedicated to all my stalkers out there (*cough* Rachael *cough* *cough*). In it you will find my adventures and misadventures on the wonderful continent of Europe.

But first, my flight. 

My last Timmies <3

 For the most part, It was a good flight. I did, however, learn something very interesting.

I'm afraid of take off. 

I was fine getting on the plane. And then we started to taxi. 

Me (thinking) - "Yay, I'm finally leaving! This is going to be fun."

Captain - "(blah blah blah blah....)We'll be leveling off at thirty-five thousand feet."

Me (thinking) - "thirty-five hundred....that's not so ba.....wait...omg THIRTY-FIVE THOUSAND???? Okay....not a big deal. We'll probably have to take-off really fast. Hm....what if there's not enough landing strip...or is it a take off strip...we'll crash and burn! Or what if the wheel breaks and we go nose first into the asphalt! What if the tail breaks off! I'm pretty close to the front....maybe.... oh crap. the wings. What if a wing snaps while we're half-way up! We'll spiral back down to earth in a burst of fire! *looks out window* What if another planes hits us. That would definitely kill us. *plane accelerates* OMG I'M GONNA DIE!!!!

 *starts crying and hyperventilating*

Then the guy beside me looks at me and starts laughing....

At least I got a really pretty picture of Toronto

After we leveled off, I was fine. Landing is also frightening for the same reasons, but it comes so suddenly I don't have time to panic. It was great that I had to do it three times. 

The flight from Montreal to Germany was reaaaaally long. We had these cool screens in front of us where we could watch movies, tv, listen to music, or check our status in the flight. 

-36.4 F..... it went down to -70. Parkas anyone?

I had the BRILLIANT idea to watch Taken. For those of you who haven't watched it, it's about two girls that visit Paris and then are kidnapped and sold into prostitution. Yeah....genius.

I stopped in Germany and that was a horrific event. There were so many people and I couldn't figure out where I was supposed to go. I asked the guy at the information desk (thank GOD he spoke English) and I needed to line up for passport check. 

Just trying to get there was difficult; I kept apologizing for bumping into people. After bumping and apologizing to another person, this guy behind me said "These darn Canadians." I turned, horrified! But he said he was joking. Those darn Americans.

Anyways, I'm proud to say I got my first stamp on my passport! *happy dance* :D

After the passport check and customs, I had 30 minutes to get to my gate. It took me 20 minutes running to get to my gate. TWENTY MINUTES. I was so sad. They were selling legit German sausage, and I wanted so bad to try that but there wasn't time :( I cried a little on the inside. 

While on the plane there were some really thick clouds and this was the conversation in my head. 

"Oooooh pretty. So fluffy! I could just jump on them like in the Pooh Bear movies. Hm...it's just vaporized water though...it wouldn't be able to hold me up. I'd fall. Like a rock. 35,000 feet into the mountains beneath them. Splat. Like a fly on glass. I wonder if I'd be able to scream. Or would I be even able to scream? Hm...."

Enough of my morbid thoughts. 

Arrival in Italy!

I finally landed in Italy and realised I will not be wearing any of the long-sleeved shirts I packed. It's very hot here. Very hot. 

Because I was waiting for the roommate to arrive I wandered around the airport a little, found out it costs money to use wi-fi, so I ordered what I thought was an iced coffee. Turns out I ordered a coffee made with whipped cream. like...soft coffee ice cream. but Good Lord, that was the most beautiful thing I have ever eaten. I can't even explain it. So light, and so coffee-ish. Glad it was my first Italian food.

My roommates plane was late so I found a seat so I could sleep a little. To protect my stuff while I was asleep I placed one arm on one suitcase, my other arm on my purse, a scarf over my head (to shut out the light a little), and my head on my big suitcase. I woke up 20 minutes later in so much much pain. A very bad idea. And people were looking at the weird Canadian girl funny. 

We finally were on our way to the apartment and I learned that Italians do not know how to drive.

Or maybe they're really good at driving so they just appear reckless

 First, no one follows the lines. Why bother putting lines on the road if you're not going to follow them! Seriously! There was this one guy in front of us that was straddling the line the entire time. Second, no one follows the speed limit. It was 70 km and the driver was going 120. It was 30 km on this itty bitty curvy road, and he was doing 90! I was praying to God we wouldn't crash. I survived intact except for my nerves. Those were deep fried in butter.

That's all I'm gonna write for now. 

Next post: Lost in Rome