The Girls

My first group of dorm students arrived today. There are five so far. All of them are from China and range in age from 15 - 19. Most of them have American names they've chosen for themselves which sound nothing like their Chinese names and make me feel guilty for being relieved to be able to pronounce them. There are two more coming in the middle of the night.

The first girl, Ellie*, came around 11am with her brother, who's also an MCI student. She is full of questions, knocking softly on my screen door seven times already:
"Where do I get water?"
"Where do I wash my clothes?"
"Do you have caesars?" My mind went to the pizza and the salad and the palace before finally landing on the cutting instrument.

By the time the second, Lily, arrived, Ellie was chomping at the bit to talk with someone her own age. She was in Lily's room before I could call to introduce her. Lily is much quieter, with cheetah print wedges and a denim dress and thick-rimmed black glasses. I can tell I will wish I could dress like her.

Susie came with her aunt and uncle, backing their SUV up to the front door. Her uncle politely, but protectively, asked lots of questions and programmed my phone number (the duty phone number) into his phone. They wanted to know if they could buy Susie a mini-fridge for her room and her aunt translated how to use a washing machine, explaining Susie has never been away from home and will need a lot of help from me.

Donna and Nancy came together right before dinner, befriending each other on the bus from the airport. They are the youngest, 15 and 16, respectively. When I told them the bus was leaving for Walmart in five minutes, they jumped up and started running their fingers through their hair.

I'm amazed by these girls already. I can't imagine going to high school in another country.

Before I sat down to write this, I dug a stack of CDs from my still unpacked suitcase, discovering several from my junior year (college) in Florence. Before I left that year, I had my brother burn two discs for me (it used to be a lot harder to do :)). They became infamously known as CD1 and CD2 and for years after - I'm realizing now it's been 12 years since I lived in Italy!!! - any one of those songs could transport me to my pensione room above Piazza Santa Maria Novella. My roommate and I (and several others) had the playlists memorized. There is Bjork, Britney Spears, Ani DiFranco, BBMak, Counting Crows, Phil Collins, U2, Fiona Apple, Squeeze, REM, Tom Petty, Trisha Yearwood, Rusted Root and others.

This is the music I listened to when I rode trains to visit cities with museums whose art I was studying. This is the music I listend to when I wrote papers on college-ruled sheets in trains coming back from those cities, wearing the same sweater and pants I'd worn all weekend. This is music I listened to in my strange, hotel-dorm bed with its royal blue down comforter underneath my collage of American things and people on the corkboard over my bed. This is the music I listened to when all I wanted to do was call my mother to fly to Florence and take me home. This is the music I listened to when I dragged bags of clothes to the Lavanderias and drank a glass of wine from the bar across the street while my denim skirt and t-shirts dried.

I try to put myself back there - excited, nervous, terrified, giddy, confused, sad - when the girls come to ask questions. I think Ellie with her questions will be a leader in the group, clarifying and translating for her more timid friends. I try to listen to what they are really asking for and answer those questions, too, so they don't have to ask. I tell them over and over to come to me any time. I'll listen to their music and I'll know these songs that may seem like just stuff on the radio will be future, transformative, 3-minute explosions of memories.

*I changed their names yet again. :)