As I write this update, I’m sitting in a charming Italian flat. Its red tiled floors and bright white walls create the quintessential picture of what one expects in Italy. The sun is shining on the brown and red roof tiles outside of the window and the church bells chime on the hour. Am I romanticizing my surroundings? Somehow I think it’s not possible to romanticize this world—it is simply thus in reality.

I’ve lived here in Turin, Italy, for two weeks now, a very simple and fulfilling existence. By the second day I had work and began teaching immediately. That was the day when Italy endeared itself to my heart. I had to travel by bus (having failed the day before to go by train and ending up half way to Venice instead of just outside of the city) to the village of Chieri. Ida, the director of the school for which I work, informed me that if I told the bus driver that I wanted to get off at la fermata San Antoni, it would be easy for me to find the school. The bus driver was wholly puzzled when I asked about the stop, and I am quite confident it wasn’t my Italian that so confused him! Rather he scanned the sign posted with the list of stops and said he didn’t know to which stop I was referring. Plan B: I asked every person on that bus. Plan C: I tried to call Ida at the school. Plan D: I had to get off at the final stop in Chieri before the bus moved on to the next town. Finally the phone call went through at the school. Silia answered, Ida’s co-worker. I couldn’t explain to her where I was, and when I saw a little Italian woman, I told Silia I’d call back in a few minutes once I could orient myself a bit. I asked the charming little Italian woman where the street San Dominica was. She told me that San Dominic“o”—note the correction she provided—was…and then she proceeded to rattle off directions in Italian that would have been confused if given in my mother tongue. She interrupted her very animated, gesture filled explanation, grabbed me by the hand and said laughingly to come with her. I started laughing, utterly charmed by this woman. She rushed me down the street and began her explanations again from another, easier starting point. This soon seemed as pointless to her as trying to explain earlier had been because she knew how to get there but explaining it was complicated. So she abruptly stopped her lesson once more, grabbed my hand, and rushed me down the street a bit further. She was absolutely adorable. Fifteen minutes of rushing through streets, stopping for directions herself or trying to explain to me, and non stop rambling of Italian ended abruptly with the question (still in Italian of course), “Do you understand Italian?” I, still laughing, nodded and answered, “Si, ho capito. Capito.” We’d arrived and she was quite pleased with herself. I was completely amazed. I’d never have found it on my own. She kissed my cheeks and with the warmth of a grandmother wished me luck and said ciao. I returned the affection with all my heart. That was the beginning of a fabulous day.

Ida and Silia, the directors of the school, were just as charming and kind hearted. I felt so comfortable with them and was very encouraged by their enthusiasm. I left a few hours later, armed with teacher material and confidence to enter class that night.

My first class was brilliant. The Italian adult students were so willing and joyful, laughing their way through errors and translated jokes. It rounded off a wonderful day of interacting with Italians. It’s no wonder why the world seems so enchanted with this sincere and enthusiastic people. I certainly am!