Okay, so this past Sunday I got on a plane alone and flew to Sydney, Australia. Ended up here, it's Tuesday now. Didn't die. Didn't lose either of my passports (though there was a very close call), and now I'm here. I got in at 6 in the morning, and my uncle and Mum picked me up at the airport. At about 10 we headed off to the hospital... because the reason I'm in Aus in the first place is because my nonna is dying. We're in the "make her comfortable" stage. So... everyone's here, my cousins, my mum's cousins, my mum's uncle, the whole shebang. And guess what almost all of them speak! Italian! Guess what I don't speak! Italian! So they'll be talking and slip into Italian in mid sentence, and I'll be sitting there just.... And then they'll say my name and laugh... *sigh*
But since my relatives are italian-australian, I've been struggling to survive the 10 odd hours I've been here. So far I've been force-fed multiple times, regaled with stories that I have to pretend to understand, and have undertaken the difficult task on figuring out what the heck they're saying. Just sit and nod, sit and nod, try to make appropriate facial expressions..
And everyone's crying one second, and laughing the next, and I'm just jet-lagged and trying to figure out when it's an appropriate time for either. Oh, and another problem. I. Don't. Like. Cheese. That's right, I don't like cheese, and everyone here is Italian. So they're offering all these cheese platters, all these dishes with cheese, and I'm just suffering in silence, because I don't want to be disowned, thanks.
And I don't know when I'll be home again, and I can't text or email and it's gonna suck. But I'm here to support my mum, and that's why I'll stay here. But.. yeah. So I'll go eat my cheese-laden pasta now.
Hope you're having a better summer break then I am!
(Though it's actually been great until this weekend)
P.S. there is pear/raspberry bread in Australia. I was force-fed it. It's...interesting. Zucchini bread is better.