Umm this is where I live

3/15/15

Day 59

There is absolutely nothing worth mentioning about my day. So instead, here's my apartment that I realize I never blogged about. Don't get too excited. 

We live on what Americans would call the 3rd floor but Italians would disagree, so technically, we live on the 2nd floor of this thing that feels like you're entering a castle. The first door is really tall and solid wood so it's pretty heavy. Then there's an iron gate that's almost always open.

Then the endless stone stairs leading up to our "2nd floor" residence. 

When you walk in, you're greeting by a dimly lit yellow hallway and if you're perceptive, you'll notice that the majority of the artwork somehow related to Jesus Christ. This theme continues on through the rest of the apartment. As you walk down the hallway, the door on the left is my 2 of my roommates' room. Its window opens onto Via Ghibellina (our street) and we're right next to what I think is a Mexican bar so it can get loud at night. (This picture was taken looking towards the door so their room is on the right)

At the end of the hallway is the living room where the Jesus obsession reaches its peak. I don't think this picture does it justice because you can't make out enough of the art to appreciate the full effect. 

There's one uncomfortable sofa and a matching chair and an ancient TV that takes over 5 minutes to turn on so we just don't. Off of this room, our landlord has a room where he keeps his supplies. He keeps it locked but once he left it open and we found out it has the best view and doubles the area of the apartment. (You can see it past the TV)

Also off of the living room is my and my roommate's room. (There are four of us total, 2 in each room) We're really bad at keeping it clean. 

Finally, the kitchen and bathroom stem off of a really narrow hallway that also connects to the living room. The shower is about as big as a postage stamp and leaks so the bathroom is a constant flood.

The kitchen has a washer but no dryer because Italians like to use clothes lines. Not really sure why. 

Both the kitchen and our room overlook a small courtyard which has a way of funneling all noise in our windows, amplifying it as it echoes up to us. We get a lot of free trumpet concerts (read: trumpet lessons) and impromptu private a cappella performances courtesy of our neighbors. But, as much as I complain, I secretly love how I can hear the strains of conversations in Italian or smell cigarettes on the breeze because our neighbors lean out their windows to smoke. And the best part is that I live 5 minutes away from school so I don't have to wake up a second earlier than necessary. It's a beautiful thing.