Personal Narrative: My Life In Rural Italy

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I didn't mind that my pant size would get at least two sizes bigger, I wanted to experience life in rural Italy before I died. So fitting in a snug size 7/8 I have now checked that item off my bucket list.

There are certain cultures and languages that you just find yourself gravitating towards as a youngin'. For me, it was always French, partially because my last name is Franco and I always thought it was perfect if I became a Franco-phone. That and my dad's name is Pierre, despite being Brazilian; it was a no brainer. I pursued it at the first opportunity; I started learning French in middle school at around 13.

Believe it or not, I was one of the worst students in French because I was too busy passing notes to my classmates mocking how ridiculously proper our teacher's outfits looked. She was definitely a TJMaxxinista. Madame Gill and I had a hostile relationship because she too would make fun of how I dressed, and I don't blame her; I was
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The sweat-stains were serious at this point and of course, the DuoLingo app I was messing with on my iPhone while waiting for them to come pick me up gave my beginner status away from the jump. I did a scan of the parking lot and see my future Italian host mom Carmen walk towards me with a welcoming smile and bright red hair, loved her already. She gave me three kisses on the cheek and welcomed me into the car. Remember, zero English people, so it did not go as smoothly as what you might have imagined. Just picture me sweating, stuttering, and semi shaking from nerves trying to cram my huge backpack in the back of their

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