I can feel my mom's breath on my neck. She isn't simply watching me. She's scrutinizing, waiting for the moment when she can tell me, "I told you so."

Then there's me, sitting on my suitcase, struggling to make the zippers meet. I grunt in frustration. She can only hold her tongue for so long. Zip zip. Here it comes. Zip zip. My mother finally reaches the brink, "This is ridiculous. You do not need all of this stuff! Where do you think you are going, the moon?"

Well, not exactly. But I am going to Cagli, Italy for a "multimedia summer program in a small Italian town." So, of course I must find a way to cram my entire American lifestyle into a suitcase. How can I be sure the Cagliese will have heard of Clean and Clear facewash let alone sell it in their stores?

It's amazing how quickly stereotypes can be ripped apart and thrown into the wind like confetti in a tickertape parade. So much for my hardwork and methodical packing. When Air France neglected to transfer my luggage at a stopover in Paris, my trip to Italy was ruined! All the products I had so frantically packed were floating in luggage limbo somewhere between Paris and Rome.

I started feeling sick to my stomach. Professors and students alike consoled me with phrases such as "You'll get by," "I will lend you whatever you need," "You can just buy stuff in Cagli." I restrained myself from stamping my feet. I WANT MY STUFF!

Turns out Italy, and even Cagli, does have shampoo, sunblock, soap, and deodorant. Not only do they have it, they have the same brands that stock the shelves in the United States--Garnier, Dove, and Palmolive. Who knew?

Franco, my Italian teacher, expressed my thoughts perfectly when he said, "When Italians go to the U.S. they never worry about not being able to find something. Don't assume that you can't get certain things in Italy and don't even suggest this idea to Italians-- they get insulted."

And rightfully so.