The atmosphere is, in a way, similar to that of America. However, the culture and traditions are completely unique in itself. I am in one airport, then in another less than ten hours later, and I am suddenly aware that I no longer understand the intercom voices which are speaking to me. I look around at advertisements and signs, and I am shocked that I do not understand it; in Germany I am invaded upon by a simple language which automatically creates a barrier between the German people and myself; the same applies to Italy as I hear the different sounds of speech patterns as they penetrate into my ears.

Flying on an airplane, I had anticipated rumors about bumpy rides and becoming airsick. Instead, my experience was of freedom taking flight; I loved the sudden leap in my stomach as the plane lifted off. Besides flight landings and takeoffs, the ride is a dull and boring process. I am frequently served food by female flight attendants who speak multiple languages and put on fake smiles of happiness and cheer in an effort to encourage passengers to eat their food and come again so they can make more money.

Traveling is a pain; I spend approximately eight hours on my butt without standing. My only relief is the window in which I may look at the clouds below, and my friends are also a relief in their companionship. Otherwise, I happily get off the plane in Frankfurt, Germany, to rush at a brisk pace to another flight... another plane. Although an hour, my butt was suffering. I was served my "second" breakfast of the day, which included: apple juice, a candy bar, and a small cheese and lettuce roll sandwhich. The plane food becomes rather sickening after awhile though, and I was not looking forward to another plane meal.

The bus ride was much like the plane ride in different ways. It was crowded in that the seats were too close together for knee comfort. The person to be our tour guide started talking into a microphone, radiating her heavily accented English. Her name was Elsa, and she looked to be in her thirties or forties, with thick, dark hair that reached her shoulders. She was short but thin, perhaps a typical stereotype for some Italian women. Elsa informed the group that the first stop would be Verona, the well-known city legendary for the Shakespearean tragedy, Romeo and Juliet. Graffiti covered the entranceway to Juliet's balcony; layers of paper, permanent markers, and chalk decked the stone walls. There was not much to see on this journey, but it was interesting to dive into the actual culture of the Italians. It was in Verona that I had my first Italian ice-cream, known as gelato, in Verona. Also in Verona, I enjoyed walking through the open market and observing the never-ending beauty of the architecture and monuments which seemed to stare out at me from every corner of the square.

Another new experience for me was the Adriatic Sea, near Venice; I cannot recall ever stepping foot into any other sea than the Atlantic Ocean. The water was great, although people said it was rather cold and clammy. Overall, the trip was exhausting, but the difference in culture and life in comparison to the United States has proven interesting.