Lifestyle, Places

The erasmus/orgasmus state of mind

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One year ago, I landed on Belgian hearth for the best. I was beginning an experience called sympathetically by students “orgasmus”. In fact, the sensation was this: nerves really on tense while mentally in ecstasy for every new discovery; the idea of not really knowing what I would have done with this great story, if it would be a great one night stand or if it would be much deeper and useful; it looked like a mystery, I had heard friends who had already experienced it but still the versions were all different – apart that it was widely defined as “great”, “unexplainable”, “the best time”; I had needed to open up my mind at expectations, knowing that anyway I would have trembled of pleasure counting my personal version afterwards. Oooh yeah, I couldn’t imagine at all on that 28th of January…
I fell in love immediately with my room, on the rooftop of a beautiful XIXth century house, whose owners are the greatest family friends. I had a family on the two floors down to where I was, yet I was independent in my territory, shared with three flatmates on whom I had a strong curiosity; I was told there was a Spanish guy and two girls, a Rumanian and another one that was about to leave to be replaced. The fact is that at the moment I arrived, taken from the station by a friend, nobody was there except a ballerina to which Luis had lent his room. I met him the next day but he was about to live for holidays. The Rumanian woman (she’s 28) was at her boyfriend’s in Amsterdam, the other room was occupied by an Italian girl waiting to leave it to a Turkish girl. To cut short, I was alone. And I couldn’t stress anytime my family downstairs. The first night, after the erasmus welcoming beer meeting, I got lost in Ixelles (my neighborhood) because I mistaken the bus stop. First days, I was obliged to get the idea of which exams I could do, and they were all different from the ones I thought – either I had already done them in Florence, either they were the first semester’s. Indeed I had to go to the market, get an idea on how to survive, possibly meet new people etc. I was lucky I already had a friend who introduced me and we could go out – it was the holiday period in the university so they were all free and happy -. It was great, apart the panic attack I had in an electro disco – we haven’t the same tastes -. I experienced true home parties. My floor was for long empty, and I felt abandoned there; later on I discovered that is was better, as I didn’t really get on with my flatmates… Without entering the argument, the saying “smoking like a Turkish” is damn true; but oh my, if it was just this one the problem… Let’s drop. Probably I had my little vices, too: loud music, don’t make noises while I sleep until 2pm, dangerous cooking (I monopolized the freezer to fill it with Picard’s stuff and actually cooked nothing but French fries and vegetables), home late in the night making noises with high heels, later on own guests – fantastic when I cooked waffles for Mexican big guests at 4am while I was waiting for a cab to the airport -. They didn’t know how to live, anyway 🙂
I shifted groups and friends every week, I entered the inter nation’s events, I had no center of gravity. And I was on the crazy idea of only attending russian classes and be ready to do the biggest exam from 0 to 12ects knowledge: this was my biggest bet, nobody believed I could make it but my tutor was alike, and she did her best (thank you Yulia, I love you). Ah, and I had 5 more classes than Russian, which I never attempted!!
All this looks fun, but believe me, the first period was between heaven and hell, as I fell sick for a dust allergy, didn’t know any doctor and couldn’t breath at night… And I missed my parents, granny and friends so much that I was coming back to Italy often – even for the elections! – and took them there to fill my fridge with jam and Italian delicacies, and make my mattress on the floor much more beautiful with a magnificent leopard blanket. The second period I got much more used to my life alone and I began to fill my nights with Saint Plon’s karaoke and crazy events. The only regret was to give a second chance to my ex boyfriend, a jealous desperate very Italian guy who was actually able to screw up at the erasmus gala were I was nominated miss erasmus, just because he heard speaking other languages that were not Italian that – obviously a closed minded idiot of 26 – couldn’t even make the effort to understand. If the team express is reading this post, I deeply apologize – I am very thankful for the experiences we had: Bruges, introduction to Brussels etc. – it’s going to be a regret forever, I am glad the story ended one week later in the worst of manners. Ok, not really a regret, as the best arrived later and I got stronger than ever with my ambitions and fantasies, independent to anybody. I passed all my exams with great notes and to cut short, I continued with this rhythm and I gained one year at the university. Fuck yeah, it was a multiple orgasm. I wish everybody could have the fun I had while working really hard getting results. Love to all the people that joined the excitement, it was/ still is “the best period of my life”.

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My window was the highest, with red little curtains…

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The side of the ULB where I had Russian classes… I miss all this beauty and green in an institution.

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