Out of Body Experiences

Instead of progressing chronologically, I'm going to maintain the theme of family outings. So a couple of nights in, my family, still keen to show me as much of the region as possible, took me over to Brescia to have a nosey at the castle.

It was a beautiful castle - high up on a hill looking over the city, and there was a beautiful sunset to match. My family were eager to please, as always, and wanted to get a closer look. I agreed, stressing it wouldn't be any trouble to just look round outside. It transpired that the castle was shut. At that point I'd have gone home - not that I wasn't grateful, but I was tired after camp and I really didn't want to put my family out at all.

That is not how Italian hospitality works.

On closer inspection the castle was open, but only if you were going to watch a film at the open-air cinema. So after taking a butchers round the castle grounds, taking some pictures of the sunset, I found myself sitting on a Brescian hilltop, overlooking the city, mountains in the background, watching X-Men Origins: Wolverine.

It was a true out-of-body experience. Never in my life had I ever expected to be doing that - with a family I barely knew, though they had welcomed me with very open arms into their home.

This is why I love Italy.

Adventures on Two Wheels

Though I parted from my fellow tutors on Saturday evening, Sunday had much excitement in store as the rest of the weekend was devoted to getting to know our respective families. I was treated to a visit to Mont Isola.

In the middle of Lago d'Iseo there is a large pimple of an island - that said it really is spectacular. Considering it was my first taste of 'traditional' Italian beauty in a long time, it lived up to expectations.

To visit the island you have to get across by ferry, which we duly did, and then to see as much of the island as possible you have to hire bikes.

Imagine the scene - the weather is, let's say 'close', and we're cycling up, let's say a 'mountain' - pleasant. But not content with leaving it there, let's add something else to the mix: a fly, some vanity, and an epic downward slope. What difference do they make, you may be wondering. Well, much water has passed under the bridge since and I'm still bearing the scars.

It really was quite funny really. On said slope a fly flew into my personal space and not wanting to get the mother of all insect bites on my face I tried to bat it away - BIG mistake. In order to temper the rapid acceleration I had just experienced I thought I had better pull on the back brake. Problem. Which one is the back brake? This one? No, so it must be... this one? Yes! Oh, wait, no... oops. Face full of gravel.

Well done. Day two with the host fam and I've already shown myself to be completely irresponsible and lacking in what most people would call 'common sense': cue explanation of the term 'blonde' over dinner.

I felt really bad for embarrassing the fam in feeling embarrassed for me. I was totally fine about it - to own the truth I found it rather amusing. If I'd had an audience I would have expected them to laugh.

So that evening I elected to keep a low profile and prepare myself for 5 uninterrupted days of English camp fun - easy, especially when (I think to draw attention to my stupidity) my family had put an attractive red dye on my wounds. Smooth.

Camp America

I wasn't the first to arrive at the school for our camp meeting and so I was shown into a classroom where some of my fellow tutors were already getting to know each other. Along with Kitty and Lydia was a tall, laddish American that for the sake of my Pride and Prejudice comparison, I shall call Mr Bingley; a subdued and smart  American I shall call Mr Darcy (though he had none of the looks of Colin Firth); and a team-spirit all-American gal, that I shall call Jane.

I am now thoroughly lost in Pride and Prejudice comparisons, but it will just make interesting reading later on when newcomers happen across later entries and discover that Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy tried to engineer a human pyramid whilst Kitty took a photograph...

Though these tutors were new that year, (like me, Kitty and Lydia) they had been touring the country for about a month and had, thankfully, more experience than we did. They all seemed very pleasant - nice, proper, jolly Americans.

I was adding to my worry by the second.

We chatted a little, had some ice cream, and then we were given our classes. For the next two weeks I had the pleasure of teaching... 10 year-olds. Oh. I was spared the 7 year-olds, but it still wasn't what I wanted.

At this point the last member of our team of merry men and women arrived. I shall call him Mr Wickham for reasons that will no doubt become apparent. My first impression was that he was a British jack-the-lad that enjoyed a bit of banter. I must say I liked him a lot. He immediately stood out against the Americans (and Lydia, but then again if she stood sideways she did disappear).

So having met everyone, we made plans to go out for a drink in the evening and get to know each other a little better.

On my return to my 'old' house, my host dad had arrived - he welcomed me warmly and things finally started to seem to fit in together...