By Cory Clay
In the summer of 1994 I took a trip to Genoa, Italy to stay with my pen pal Debora Giardella. I had corresponded with her since I was in seventh grade and I saved money for two years to go visit her. On the 5th of June, I left Minneapolis on a Northwestern flight and landed at the O’Hare Airport in Chicago. After sitting and watching strange and unusual people for three hours I got on an Alitalia flight and was off to Italy. Well, actually we had to make an emergency landing in Boston to pick up some stranded tourists going to Egypt. So just when I thought that I was lucky to have two empty seats next to me, these two girls sat by me. Let me tell you, they were the most obnoxious, loud mouthed, New Yorkers you could ever meet. In their heavy New York accent they continued to crack jokes about everyone on the flight. And just when I thought I’d had enough of them, they confessed to me that they were prostitutes. I thought, “Great. I have 9 1/2 hours left to listen to these annoying hookers.”
When we landed in Rome I was expecting to see old buildings and churches. Instead I saw miles of weeds. The airport was 40 miles from the city. I then transferred to a smaller flight and headed for Genoa, a large city in the northwestern part of the country. The plane landed and it was now time to meet my pen pal. I stepped off the plane and saw a huge banner that read, “Welcome Cory.” I walked over to meet Debora, her father Antonio, and her younger sister Sylvia. They all seemed nice, but they were really hairy and I don’t think they’ve ever heard of deodorant.
Antonio drove us home in his little sports car and sped at about 90 mph. They lived in an old apartment building that looked like it should be condemned. I went to the top floor where they lived and I met Debora’s mother Maria. She was a short little woman who looked like she belonged in a Prego commercial. After showing me my bedroom, which was as small as a broom closet, we all sat down for dinner. Their food didn’t look like the food my Italian mother makes for me. This was something I’ve never seen before and that’s how most of the food was. And actually, I don’t miss any of it.
On my second day Debora and Sylvia showed me around the city and brought me to the beach. I don’t think I ever saw so many hairy people in my life. I felt like I was in a scene from the movie “The Planet of the Apes.” After looking at the monkeys we went gift shopping. I had intended to buy my family gifts, but me, the Madonna fanatic, bought every rare bootlegged CD I could find. I wound up spending half my money in one day’s worth of shopping.
The following two days were boring. All I did was sit in the apartment because Debora was studying for some major college test. I think I started to go insane. Debora and Sylvia only knew basic English and every time I would explain something I would have to keep repeating myself and finding different words to use. I never knew that we Americans use so much slang. Antonio and Maria only spoke Italian and since I only knew about five Italian words, communication was horrible. I would get headaches just trying to talk to them. I felt like I was on another planet and from that day on I realized how far away from home I really was.
On my fifth day the Giardella family and I took a train ride through the mountains. This was my most exciting event on my trip. The ride was four hours long and we traveled through small villages that looked as though they never have seen modern society. At one of the train stops I saw an old hairy mountain woman herding her sheep across the train tracks. She was scary as hell. She turned and smiled at me, exposing her toothless mouth. I smiled back as she bent down and sniffed my ice cream sandwich. She turned and walked away. I was so disgusted that I threw my ice cream away. I never did understand why she would sniff a stranger’s ice cream. Maybe it’s a mountain hermit’s way of greeting you? Or maybe she’s been hanging out with her sheep too long?
My sixth day was my last night in Italy. We all went out to dinner at the street festival in the heart of Genoa. Debora’s cousin Angelo came too. He was scheduled to leave for Bosnia the following morning with the military. We all laughed, had lots of fun, saw strange people, and ate burned pizza. On our way walking back home, four prostitutes tried to pick up us guys. I thought it was funny because they looked old enough to be my grandmother and one of the women had a bushy mustache. I don’t think the Italian women have heard of Nair.
I woke up the following morning at 5:30. We all ate Cheerios and warm goat milk for breakfast. YUCK!!! After we ate Antonio drove us to the airport. I was really excited to go back to America and after saying my goodbyes I practically jumped on the airplane. As the flight flew away I could see Debora waving from the parking lot. I never heard from her again. After my trip we just lost contact. She seemed so much different in person than she did in her letters. I guess she just got on my nerves too much. Even though I’ve forgotten about her, I’ll never forget my trip and what I experienced.
I may have made my trip sound like it wasn’t very fun, but I wrote how I exactly felt while I was there. I realize more now how much I really experienced and how lucky I was to do so. I saw many beautiful towns, structures, statues, and churches, which you don’t see in this country. I hope to go back someday, but this time with some American friends.