Day:1. Friends:0.

Being woken up at 3.15am having gone to bed at 1.45am after enduring the world's worst hangover and having slept the evening before on a plank of polished wood covered by what I assume was a tea towel, I was hardly thrilled to be moving myself and all my worldly possessions to another country that I have been told is "ugly and cold". The plus side of being up this bloody early though was that I could have a mcdonald's breakfast at the airport! .....it tasted like s***. Shocker. To top it off, my mum who is coming with me to bring extra luggage, was horrified that she was not able to get a vanilla latte or sweeteners from a place that is nicknamed Maccy D's.

Whoever told me Milan was ugly. Or cold for that matter, is a liar. It was 28 degrees when we arrived and so so beautiful. Mainly because of the fact that I am pretty sure The Hoff was waiting for me as we got off the plane. No joke. Might have to research his current location. Is Britain's Got Talent over?
My accommodation however - not so appealing. For the next 6 months I will be living in what can only be described as a children's hospital, in a shared room the size of my fist with a girl who I don't think speaks English where the bathroom has no lights, toilet seat or functioning door. The kitchen is a microwave and table. No fridge or other such luxuries. My bed and wardrobe were also broken and the view from my window is of other people's bird-poo splattered clothes on their balcony. Great.

Ways I've improved my language: without words, communicated to a man who does not speak any English, that my bed was broken. Now there's a great life skill.