Italian Lessons start a little rocky

My first Italian lesson was on Wednesday morning.  Ilaria showed me on the map where it was and gave me the name Institution Dante something, and the number was 94.  So I got off the bus thirty minutes early at the castle.  I start walking to a corner to see the street name to check if this was the correct street.  Once on the corner I pulled out my map and begin trying to figure where the heck I should go.  A kind old man stops and starts talking to me in Italian.  Blast it! I'm foiled again by my lack of Italian thus why I'm trying to get to an Italian class.  I point to the street on the map that I'm trying to get to.  The old man says something in Italian to my blank face, pulls out some glasses and starts speaking in Italian.  He gestures down the street with his hands.  Which I assume is about as helpful as he's going to be.  He starts walking and then stops and motions for me to follow him.  Thankfully he answers my prayers and leads me to the correct street.  So then I resume the task of trying to find the blasted building, the number anything that might be an institution.  Nothing.  After my second time walking up and down both sides of the street I stop and ask a lady that's passing.  Who I might note did not look at all happy to help me, let alone be bothered.  She pointed down the street from which I had just come.  She then walked off.  I guess I could try one more time I sighed and slowly walked after her as I studied buildings.  Toward the end of the narrow street she sees me again and has me follow her to the corner where she points to a building across a super busy street.  That can't be it, but I thank the lady anyways, and decidedly turn around to head back up the street.  I call Ilaria she tells me one side of the street is odd numbers the other even.  Which I thought was ironic because the numbers didn't follow a pattern it went from 93-68 in five steps and two buildings but whatever.  Italians you love to make things just a tad bit harder.  So I go to the opposite side of the street under arches are shops set under the larger buildings.  I've already checked this side of the street but now I pay extreme close attention to numbers.  Finally I find 94 above an arched doorway that leads into a court yard.  I make my way into it slowly because I still have twenty minutes until I'm suppose to be there which is fifteen minutes before the lesson even begins.  I stand in the court yard surrounded by mix-matched buildings of different colors.  The number 94 is above a doorway that looks like it hasn't been open in years, with the window next to it heavily barred and covered in cobwebs.  I don't think it's that door so I look around.  There's stairs that lead up and out of sight.  I decided to buy some pastries and wait a bit then try the door up above.  I come back with my pastries and slowly eat them.  Another older gentleman comes into the court yard.  I feel incredibly conspicuous just standing there eating pastries like a pig.  So I walk up the stairs because he's staring at me.  I'm standing up there out of sight eating pastries when he comes up the stairs.  I have no where to go, and now I feel even more like an idiot.  He says something to me in Italian.  Which I wave off and say Instituto or some such none sense hoping it sounded Italian.  He motions for me to come closer to the door that he now opened into the building.  I can't just ignore him as he motions for me, so I do the sensible thing allowing any chances of murder to occur I step inside the building after him.  Thankfully it doesn't come to murder and inside is like a lobby with multiple doors.  He points to the door closer to me which has the name of the institution on it.  Mind you I'm still eating pastries awkwardly now.  He goes to another door which I assume is his home door.  He just watches me waiting for me to ring the bell to the class.  I'm still ten minutes early, and eating pastries, but with an old man staring me down I feel obligated to ring the bell and put away my breakfast.  A man opens the door, he doesn't speak English, but I try to mime a class.  He has me follow him, and a lady appears.  She is incredibly weird.  I think she can speak like five languages, so everything to me sounds the same, like an incredible mumbler of all languages.  There are plaques on the wall, and certificates.  They hand me some papers to fill out, and explain because none of them are in English.  So how in the heck am I suppose to know what I'm truly signing.  But sign away I do yay me.  I wait for the other lesson to get over with, so I wait for the lady to come back sitting uncomfortably by the guy.  Next it's my turn to go in.  Oh side note! I can't pay with a credit card, and I need to pay full up front cash.  Doesn't that scream rip off, scheme or something?  I go up into the class.  Now I am paying for a private class with the lady, but there are two girls in there.  One Russian, you know the type that's perfectly beautiful looking but in an incredible scary kind of way.  Like she might just be a spy and kill me in a matter of seconds because she looks like she is constantly eyeing me up in case she needs to kill me.   The other is an American girl that is apparently the cousin or niece of the lady teaching the class.  The girl is a nanny as well for a family, and hails from California.  I feel uncomfortable because both girls are fairly fluent in Italian, and I sound like an idiot as I try to pronounce the words.  Okay, so basically the lessons are me listening to a tape of someone saying words, then I repeat the words back, then another cd of words in which I'm suppose to try to guess how to spell the words.  I'm not quite sure if this will be helpful at all, but I guess if they have plaques and two girls that speak Italian then who am I to judge right?  Well that was the Italian lesson, I'm not excited about the next one.  
Side note, something happened last night (Friday night), I'm going to talk to the missionaries to get their advice on what I should do.