Angoli

So after navigating the traffic jam and successfully meeting up with Ugo and Wanessa at the AutoGrill that was about 30 minutes away from them, we began to make our way there. The drive up was incredibly terrifying, seeing as it was one of those mountainside villages and we were driving a tank. This morning I saw a charter bus up here and immediately felt incredibly sorry for the poor driver. At least he didn't have to follow a vespa that was comfortable navigating a mountainside road at not-okay-for-minivan speeds. The views were incredible: from the top of the mountain, you could see both the Mediterranean and Ionian seas, entire mountain ranges, and a huge wind farm that sprawled out for about two miles. Really cool. I wanted to take a picture, but it was a bit too dark. I'll try taking it later. Anyways, once we got up to the top we were greeted by some familiar faces, and my grandmother and aunt got to meet some new people / incredibly distant relatives. One thing that was really good for my French (and Italian, too) was their inability to speak anything but English; I had to translate for them whenever I was having a conversation. While it was helpful for my language skills, it got kind of old after a while.

Speaking of my grandmother and aunt (I'll just call them Mary & Kathy to simplify this, seeing as typing it out every time is getting somewhat irritating), I've decided that I'll go with them around Italy to help them out, seeing as they have never driven around in Europe before and probably need a little guidance. From what I've heard, we're going to re-visit Rome (Roma), go to Florence (Firenze), potentially Naples (Napoli), and some other ones as well. I haven't really asked them, and quite frankly I'm not sure if I want to find out, seeing as each city is likely going to take a fair amount of driving. It's not that I don't mind road trips, it's the fact that European cars just aren't built for such things. In our Honda Odyssey back home, we drove everywhere. It was spacious, comfortable, and had other features that just made sense for long trips. In our Peugeot 807, however, I have to scrunch up my knees, and if I want an extra inch or two of wiggle room by sliding my seat back I end up crushing the person sitting behind me. There isn't any trunk space (we've had to get a roof turtleshell thingy, and we still don't have enough room in the trunk), the seats are built for someone with the height of Napoleon (although it is a French car), and the acceleration, even for a minivan, is abysmal. We can barely make it up a hill. Although I do like the automatically folding mirrors. Those are fun to watch.

I'm done griping about road trips, the only thing it really means for me is that I have to spend an uncomfortable day in exchange for a few days in paradise. That said, I am really not looking forward to driving from Angoli to Paris. 18 hours of clown-car fun. Paris should be nice once we get back, though. I'm kind of apprehensive about school, but then again isn't everyone their junior year. Speaking of school, I'm still putting off my summer reading, which I've heard they actually go over. Yikes. I'll get started on it soon, I still have a good 3 weeks to finish my book. Of course, that 3 weeks will go by like lightning, just like the past 2 months have, thus the reason for this blog. Hopefully I'll write more in the future, because at this rate I won't be remembering much in the future. Yes, you heard me right. If you're even there; I never really expected anyone to read this so this is pretty much just a way of keeping a diary. Even though I'm going to forget a lot of this, I really hope that I'll be able to come back sometime. The people in Angoli are really nice, even though they do stare at you like you came here from Mars on a banana (although it is a town of 300 people, so they probably don't get many foreigners). France is cool too, although they really don't like tourists so if you have even the slightest accent they kind of automatically hate you. Especially if said accent is American, English, or Belgian. They're kind of stuck-up and kind of, well, French. I'm just generalizing, though, a lot of the friends I've made there are really nice. The people that you'll randomly see on the street, though, not so much.

Strangely, the northern Italians are like that, too. The southerners, though, not so much. Just don't mention the mob (seriously, don't), and you should be fine. I've measured the reactions between English and French, and, as I predicted, they look at you weirder if you speak English. So I tend to speak in French. Depending on the situation, though, sometimes I'll have to speak English to my siblings, so they end up giving me away. I get some kind of weird kick out of disguising myself. I'm done ranting now, we're about to go check out the town with Ugo and get stared at some more. We're probably the talk of the town, I hope it doesn't get to my head.