Give me back my card.

I've been having a lot of trouble taking money out of ATMs with my bank card. It's a gamble. Sometimes the screen just says, "We have been instructed to return your card. Please contact your own bank." Sometimes it gives me money. I figured I would just deal with it and try to take out smaller amounts, as dad called the bank and they said the amount could not exceed 150 dollars, which is about 100 euro. This morning Cait and I wanted to go to the grocery because it would be nice to have some fruit and veggies and pasta here to make on my own, instead of spending the time and money venturing out into the streets and finding something suitable to eat. Dealing with the invasive street vendors and their offensive comments, along with trying to communicate with the people selling me food is really hard and it wears on me. But when I went to take money out of my account, the ATM ate my card, and my mind turned to static. BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

So, on the verge of tears, I called my dad and tried to figure out what to do. Because of the trouble I've had retrieving money, I had no cash on me. The bank was closed. It's not open tomorrow. And the Italians behind us were frustrated with the amount of time the transaction was taking. I didn't want to leave my card inside this machine for anyone to walk up and grab if the machine decided by chance to spit it out. We walked back to the apartment, frustrated, and I wrote a hasty email to my bank, asking for help. A few minutes later Lori called me and tried to talk me through what was going to happen next. Luckily, I have in my wallet a leftover temporary ATM card issued to me this summer when I lost my wallet. It can be activated again to use until they send me a new card. So, long story short, a minor mishap this morning with money, and a huge wave of culture shock hitting me all at once, finally. I'm glad it's here, so I don't have to worry about waiting for it any more. The funny thing is that my inner voice told me to keep that stupid spare ATM card just in case. As if I could have ever foreseen my card getting eaten by an Italian bank machine.


I still haven't found the grocery. I had a crepe for breakfast. And I'm tired. I miss home. But, thank God for Lori, and dad, too. They are home base, and they take care of everything technical. And I'm so glad to have them as a support system. My mom talked to me for 30 minutes and helped me calm down. And I am so happy to have those things at my back.

Cait brought back some milk and cereal. Because she is an angel.