All last week was spent learning Italian all over again. Six hours a day for five days straight of Italian, Italian, Italian. We went on many “uscitas” or outings. One was to the soccer museum, which as can be guessed, was a bunch of uniforms, pictures, soccer balls, copies of trophies, and more uniforms. We went to the offices of “La Repubblica,” one of the biggest newspapers in Italy, and talked to a reporter there, or an editor, I’m not sure what he was. We went to a place called “CIRS” pronounced “cheers,” which is a day-home rehabilitation center for adults with disabilities. We hung out with fifty year olds with down-syndrome as we painted pottery, helped them make space blankets (selling space blankets is how they make their money as a house,) and I stepped
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