Attack of the Pigeons

I am in grave danger as I sit here typing this message to you.  A pigeon has set it's beady eyes on my pastry and keeps trying to stealthily steal the goods.  I've seriously slapaped it away three times and it keeps coming back.  I don't know why.  It seems to be quite well fed from the fallen crumbs of the cafe it has been feeding on all day.  This thing could seriously be a threat in a cage fight so consider yourself lucky that I'm standing my ground and sending this message to you.  If I get pecked to death it's on you.
Anyway, it's been an interesting Easter weekend.  As you know, we got bikes.  The Tornado is going strong, but I can't say the same for Katie's bike.  It has already broken down which leads me to my first interesting story.  Two nights ago Katie biked to the cafe to access the internet and told me she would be back shortly.  However, when it came to eleven at night and no Katie I started to freak.  I had imagined she had been robbed, beaten, kidnapped, or hurt in some other means of my wild imagination.  By midnight I was nearly in tears trying to figure out what I should do if she didn't show.  Do I call the police?  The U.S. Consolate?  Would I be mixed up in the disappearance and be blamed like the other U.S. girl in that murder case in Italyt?  In short, I was a mess.  Thankfully she showed up at half past midnight.   I had never been so relieved in my life.  Katie had a horrible night as well starting with her bike breaking down.  She had to chain it to a post in town.  Following that, she got horribly sick and couldn't take the bus home since it was to late.  She had to track down a waiter friend of ours who called a cab.  The cab driver decided to take a long ass round about way home and overcharged her, but at that point she just threw the cash at him and bolted for our apartment.  Once in she ran to the bathroom shouting "sorrys" to me and continued to get sick.  It was quite the night to say the least.  I hope that's the last scare we have while over here.
As for Easter it was quite quiet over here.  Most people left on vacation and everything closed on Sunday and Monday.  Everything was pretty low key for us.  We had a lot of time to spend in our freezing apartment since the heat isn't working.  I don't know how it would even work considering there are no heating vents anywhere in the apartment.  Maybe it just magicly leaks through the walls.  After all the Europeans do quite a lot of things differently here.  To start with, they don't use microwaves or clothing dryers here.  I miss the days of being able to heat up my beloved raviolios for a quick meal.  Just yesterday I made pasta and when I went to heat up the left overs I had to get out the pots and pans again.  How strange!  Where fore out thou microwave?!  I have yet to try our ridiculously small washer since it only holds a load the size of a soccerball.  I think I might be able to fit in two pairs of socks and three pairs of underwear and call it a load.  I guess Europe hasn't familiarized itself with the industrial-sized, materialistic world that America has so greedily indulged in.  Bigger and faster apparently isn't better here in the mother country.  It does keep things more quaint though.  It just takes some time to get used to.
The round-abouts here have also served as quite the amusement.  Not a day goes by that I don't see a near-crash at those death traps.  They take to those with a fearsome aggression, and as a biker I fear for my life everytime I cross one.  Italians also have a passionate connection to their car horns.  They freely use them as if they are as essential to driving as the breaks.  I never know if they are honking at us, their friends across the street, other drivers, or their children in the back seat.  Generally, I just try to stay out of their way.  Nothing like a firm Italian flip-off to keep you cautious.   I've seen those old Italian mobster movies, and I can savely say that I wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of any Italian big or small.
Today, I started my first day of teaching at the school .  I teach in a second grade classroom with a teacher from England.  He is extremely friendly, but his quick English accent is hard to follow at times.  When I'm thoroughly confused I just smile and nod.  (Just smile and wave boys!  Those Madagascar penguins were smart blokes.  That's a shout out to you Zach since you're probably the only one who knows what I mean.)The children are also incredibly adorable with their Italian accented English.  They are so cute and tiny, not to mention the fact that they share the names of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.  I'm serious!  I have a couple Leonardo's and Donatello's in my class.  The children also seem exceptionally bright.  Their writing was better than some of the sixth graders I had back in the States. The fact that it is a private international school might be a factor.  More money, better education.  You should see some of the parents.  These mothers trapse in dressed to the hilt walking in five inch, gold heals like they just rolled out of bed.  It's a bit unsettling considering I'm just a poor American college girl.  We were actually told to tell the students and families that we are "visiting" teachers rather than "student" teachers since the parents would look at us as less adequate teachers for their children if we said we were American university students.  The word snubbish comes to mind, but dealing with the parents of students is never easy no matter what country you teach in.  Either parents are too involved or not involved enough.  I'm sure you can vouch for this Amanda.  Other then that, my day was pretty good.  It was a lot to take in considering I'm teaching in a setting quite different to the American classroom, but I'm sure I'll gain my ground with the passing days.  Next week my British supervisor visits to check in.  I'll let you know how that goes.  Speaking of which, I need to email him and my battery is about to die.  I better end this ridiculously long message.
I hope you're enjoying my day to day tid-bits and banter.  Until the next time, I hope you are all well back in the states.  By the way, it looks like I survived the pigeon.  Thank goodness! Ciao!