Living Room, Treviso

It’s hard to speak in sentences when you’re 20-hours-travel-tired, but the taxi driver and I did sing along to Madonna together, as he swerved on the highway from Venice to Treviso, not using turn signals. He offered to take me for an espresso or a pizza after fetching my new apartment keys from the Portineria. 

The 30 pounds of black canvas backpack, and combined 70 pounds of grey plastic and  sleek aluminum suitcases that had been my faithful companions relaxed on the floor. I removed the silly bunny-themed shelf, globe, decorative egg, and crystals that were in my new room for some reason (fertility symbols?) and put them in a pile on the ironing board in the living room. I started a load of laundry, found a ladder and dusted the armoire and light fixture in my new room.

It was good to arrive at a space containing elements of personal psychological hell because it forced me not to take a nap and thus ruin my chances at getting over jet lag.

My struggle against napping continued. I walked to Bottegon (the nearby bar) to see if anyone I recognized might be there. Then I walked back. I was taking down a dusty and sunburnt curtain when I heard the door open. I jumped off the ladder, and kissed my new flatmate on the cheek. “The neighbors are gonna love me.”

My new roommates are Nicolas and Alexis,  a curator from Greece and  a graphic designer from New York, but we went to a party where everyone was dressed as one another – an ideal introduction for someone who has not slept. “I am Shek, from Hong Kong” said Deniel, from Mexico. I talked about starting a noise band with him and Aihnoa from Basque (Antti from Finland). I walked home around 1am with my roommate Drew, a photographer from Missouri ;)

One of the first things I said to my flatmates was “do you like the mural?” (Everyone has always hated the mural.)

Our apartment has an open concept kitchen/living room – its bones are nice. The gas stove is stainless steel and has 5 burners. The fridge is red to match the white and red tile… and an accent wall (which is the wrong shade). The accent wall has someone’s trite and poorly-executed artistic inspiration it… or had. In my first days, with the Alexis’ help, I worked tirelessly to break as many rules as possible. Now I can’t see an administrator without a joke about how “handy” I am. (And they did not even see the pictures of me, toting 12 liners of white paint on the back of a borrowed bike, a houseplant in the basket).

1-m-bike

Nicolas was excited to come home to a white loft and immediately began planning an exhibit. We went out for a Spritz and thought about names for our new space (Nicolas liked: Living Room, Treviso) then we had a gelato (there are several vegan gelato options at the place about a block from the apartment). Good world!

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