Arrival

Upon my arrival to Milan I had no idea what time it was, was only vaguely aware of where I was, but was fairly certain that I was in dire need of some strong Italian coffee. Not having slept on the long flight from Fayetteville to Milan, I was groggy and disoriented when I lugged my two enormous suitcases carrying a years worth of clothes off the baggage belt. After several failed attempts to attain a luggage cart, I mustered up all my strength to simply drag them out the airport door. After meeting up with my family we located the nearest cafe and ordered what was to be my Official First Italian Coffee. I downed the tiny espresso gratefully. Whether it was the stronger Italian coffee or the adrenaline of driving around the outskirts of Milan to my new home in Giussano, I had no trouble staying awake even after two sleepless days. I gawked at my gorgeous surroundings with the wide eyes of a child, seeing everything new for the first time. My house is a quaint white building adjacent to a neat little park in a part of Giussano called Paina. My new host brother and sister rushed to meet me. They immediately began to speak in rapid Italian, which to their disappointment I could barely comprehend a word of. I did manage to make out that they wished to take me on a bike ride, which even in my sleep-deprived state I consented to do.