Monday, 5th September 1983
My dream of superior studies in Astronomy began early this morning, when my mother and I set out for Italy. It was late in the afternoon when we finally arrived in Padova. Before long my optimism started to wane: We literally scoured the whole city in a taxi, but it just proved to be impossible for us to find a vacant room in a hotel. After two hours of vain search, the taxi driver was so disappointed that he turned off the tariff counter. For some mysterious reason, all receptionists refused to accommodate us for more than two days. In the end, we managed to find a room in a shabby-looking hotel, after a three-hour ride. The kind hotel owner was the only one who agreed to let us stay for a week...
Friday, 16th September 1983
It was about time! I have just managed to find more permanent accommodation in the hotel “Mariposa”. My room is nice and comfortable, however the window overlooks an avenue that's full of traffic, cafeterias and shops. The road is very noisy all day long, till 2:00 o'clock after midnight; the hustle and bustle starts again at 5:00, before sunrise. Moreover, the hotel is rather expensive, which means I have to find lodgings in a house as soon as possible, like most foreign students do.
In the meantime, I have been facing too many difficulties with bureaucracy, as public services either refuse to help (especially me), or fail to give me the correct explanations, or entangle me in unnecessary procedures.
There is another problem too: As far as I've been informed, the lessons will begin on the 7th of November. Therefore, I consider it wiser and cheaper to return to Greece and stay at home for two weeks, until the school year begins. Fortunately, the hotel owner has agreed to keep my stuff in a store-room until I come back.
Friday, 18th November 1983
I have been attending the University of Padova for ten days now, and I have learned some perturbing things: a) The faculty of Industrial Chemistry in Padova is regarded as the third most difficult in Italy, b) Actually, the lessons started two weeks earlier than I thought, which means that I've missed the first two weeks because no one of those “in charge” could inform me correctly when the school year would begin.
At least, I have found a place to live: It is a spacious, comfortable apartment in the suburb of Arcella, not far from the railway station. After two months of unavailing efforts to find permanent lodgings, this apartment seemed to be godsent, despite the high rent (230.000 lire, a monthly salary) and the fact that I share it with an Italian co-tenant: it's the 25-year-old Silvana, who works as a chambermaid in a hotel. So far, so good: Silvana seems to be an agreeable person, and I also get along well with Daniela, the middle-aged owner of the house.
This morning, however, as Daniela was leaving, she told me smiling: “This jumper stinks! You must wash it!” I was taken aback, but I didn't bear any objection because I didn't want to upset her. Besides, I thought she might have been right...
Monday, 12th December 1983
Day by day I've been losing my patience: The two bitches, the house owner (who comes round almost every day for a quick inspection) and the co-tenant, are always giving me a rough time. They keep complaining that I don't take baths, that I stink of filth, that I don't do any household chores; all this is nothing but lies, of course. On the other hand, I never contradict them, I always try to satisfy their demands, I do whatever they ask me to, I show adaptability and friendliness. Yet, no matter how hard I try, the two of them are never satisfied.
Moreover, there is no key to my room, which means that whenever I am absent, the two bitches can enter freely and tamper with my things. It was the second time this afternoon that I discovered there was a banknote of 50.000 lire missing from my handbag. I didn't say anything, because I had no proof that they had stolen it.
Friday, 16th December 1983
I had just returned from university and I was about to watch my favourite science fiction series on TV, when Silvana came from work. She strutted into the living room, changed the channel quickly, walked out with hasty steps and disappeared into the kitchen. I changed the channel again and turned down the volume. However, the slut rushed into the room again, stood in front of me and asked with an air of importance: “Why did you change that?”
“You want to watch something else?” I wondered.
“Yes, I do!”
“Then, choose the channel you want!” I told her as calm as possible and I got out.
I don't intend to sit in the living room ever again.
Monday, 23rd January 1984
Unfortunately, Christmas vacations are over. This evening I returned to Italy, after eighteen days of calmness with my family. As soon as I entered my room in Arcella, I was astounded to see that all my towels were spread on the radiator, dried out by the heat! I rushed and picked them up at once.
It is not at all hard to understand what has happened; nevertheless, I can't say a word because Silvana would claim that it was I who left the towels on the radiator before leaving for Greece two weeks ago. If that was the case, the whole house would have been burnt down by now...
Wednesday, 18th January 1984
Ever since I returned to Italy, Silvana and Daniela have escalated the war against me: Almost every day I have to put up with insults such as “What's that smell! You stink! Go away!” or “You don't take baths, you are filthy!”. Sometimes the two of them talk in a low voice, yet making sure that I can listen: “She doesn't understand a thing! She is a stupid cow!” or “How shall we get rid of that nitwit?”
In the meantime, I have been desperately looking for another house but, unfortunately, so far I haven't managed to find another place to stay -not even a hen coop! In general, landlords avoid letting out rooms to foreign students. Besides, according to hearsay evidence, there seems to be an invariable tactic of Italian house owners: They make their tenants' life miserable, so as to get rid of them in three or four months, finally keeping the two or three rents paid in advance. That's a rattling good trade! As Silvana informed me this afternoon, five different girls, one after the other, had rented my room the previous year!
After four months of meeting cunning landladies who often seek to rip me off without even letting out a room, a certain suspicion has started to haunt my thoughts: People around me are not at all what they seem to be. Behind the smiling mask of the average, well-dressed and polite citizen, hides a criminal mobster, who's able to stab you in the back in order to to steal 10.000 lire from your pocket.
Strangely enough, however, all the other foreign students finally manage to find lodgings somewhere, one way or another. Only I can't find anything after so many months of continuous search. Instead of studying, I spend most of my time vainly looking for another house and I can't concentrate on my studies -and universities here are very demanding, they are no joke, as they are in Greece. Consequently, I will fail in all the examinations of the first semester...
Friday, 27th January 1984
This morning, as I was reading the classified ads in the newspaper hoping to find another room to rent, I saw something that looked like a unique opportunity: “For sale: Bedroom in perfect condition, Milan. Price: 210.000 lire. Phone no …”. I was thrilled, I made a phone call at once and arranged to go and see the room in the afternoon.
I took the bus to Milan and then I had to walk about three kilometres along a deserted road outside the city limits, until I finally found the isolated villa with the tiled roof. Yet, I was not daunted; such a nice house is worth a little fatigue, I thought.
When the polite owners of the villa explained to me that the furniture was included in the price, I could hardly believe how lucky I was. Then, all of a sudden, it occurred to me that only the furniture was for sale, not the room! I dropped from the clouds at once.
In the end, the man of the house kindly offered to give me a lift all the way to Padova. During the hour-long journey I stayed taciturn, sadly pondering over my unbelievable blunder again and again: How could I get it all so wrong? How could I ever imagine that somebody would ever sell a room in their ho
use? This is paranoiac! Probably, the dire straits I've been in lately, have affected my judgement. This is the only logical explanation for my unprecedented inanity...
Thursday, 2nd February 1984
I was studying for the maths examination, when suddenly Silvana rushed into my room furious:
“Listen, Yvonne, I've just seen my doctor, and he says I have contracted scabies, and this happened because I come in contact with a dirty person who doesn't wash! And this person is you, Yvonne!”
“What?” I shouted, hardly realizing what she was talking about.
“If I have this disease, you have it too! You should go to a doctor at once! And if you don't leave the house within three days, I will evict you!” she snorted maliciously and walked out with quick steps.
I went on studying for a few moments, but then I quit. It was just impossible for me to go on. Right after, a tremendous storm broke out in my mind. All of a sudden, my world was falling apart. Silvana was threatening with eviction and lawyers, while I was feeling helpless and miserable. I even started wondering whether that harlot could be right: Indeed, I've been smelling something bad around me lately, and this strange stink seems to be coming from my body; it never goes away, not even when I have a bath. Especially now, after Silvana's offense, the stench has become even more unbearable. Maybe I am really sick, maybe I do have scabies, I thought, full of anguish.
Next moment I stood up and got out of the house in a state of frenzy; I walked in the streets for many hours, soliloquizing continuously like a madwoman, until I reached a hospital. I got in and asked to be given medical tests, so as to find out if I actually had the disease mentioned by Silvana. I narrated the whole story to the doctors, they got the drift of it at once and they were sincere enough to explain that in such cases what is needed is a lawyer, not a doctor. Only then did the idea of my being seriously ill start to fade away...
Friday, 3rd February 1984
However, the terrible stench given off by my body seems to be getting worse and worse every moment. At the same time, I feel like drowning in a cascade of negative thoughts and an irresistible desire for revenge; yet, I'm not at all sure about what to do next. The fact is that all this endless suffering, the merciless war I have been at ever since I set foot in Italy, the excessive expenses, the vain exhaustion, are just not worth the while.
After hours of thinking it over and over again, I finally realized that the best thing to do is quit my studies and return to Greece. I phoned my parents right away, I explained everything, crying continuously for 40 minutes, and announced my final decision. They showed enough understanding and reassured me I had made the right choice.
In the afternoon I went to the police and denounced the two bitches (Silvana and Daniela) as impostors. I explained everything to the policemen, I told them about all the intrigues the two sluts had set up against me and other girls, and I also reported that the landlady had never given me a receipt for the monthly rent. The police officers were interested in my case, they wrote down everything I said and I felt a lot better. There is no other reason for me to stay in Italy any longer...
Saturday, 4th February 1984
So here I am, on the train to Venice, early in the morning, leaving Padova behind for ever. I am also leaving behind my dream of studying Astronomy and living a more interesting and meaningful life.
The truth is that, in spite of the incredible adversities, I experienced a different quality of life during those months I spent in Italy: Strangely enough, I managed to make many friends there, as I was spontaneously sociable and open to everybody, including men. It was pleasant, natural and easy for me to go for a walk with a boy. Men didn't avoid me and I didn't run away from them. Even time seemed to be passing more slowly, more naturally. During these months, it was as if I were a different person, in a different universe.
Yet, the miracle was not meant to last. Now it is all over and I am here now, on the train to Venice; soon I'll be on the plane to Greece. I am leaving now, actually forced out of that different universe, while my old self is calling me back with an omnipotent, malignant attraction. I feel extremely disappointed and I can't stand the stench my own body gives off. I must be very sick, I have to see a doctor, the sooner the better...
As the train is accelerating on the rails, I feel more and more desperate. An endless blackness is flooding my soul. I know well that when I return home, I will become what I once was: isolated, disagreeable, a misfit, a loser. I hope to avoid the return to my old miserable self, but deep inside I know this is out of the question.
... As soon as I arrive home in the evening, the first thing I do is ask my mother whether she can smell anything nasty on me. She is taken aback at my question and she tells me that, on the contrary, I smell wonderful! Next moment the stench will vanish into thin air! It is unbelievable what autosuggestion can do...
Chapter 16: Running on Empty