Orientation & the First Supper

In the middle of the night my roommate Emily arrived! It was an interesting, half-awake first conversation. Now we were just waiting for one more roommate.

It felt like in the first couple days that I was in Rome I learned more about the United States than I did about Italy. Most of the schools people said they were from I had never even heard of before, but I guess its not like anyone knew of SUNY New Paltz either…of course they’d heard of New York. For the first couple of days I was here I didn’t meet a single person from NY but I met people from Oregon, Illinois, Texas, Minnesota and…well some other states that are located in central America that I cant remember. All I know is that I thought to myself, “Wow, people live there?” (I’m terrible, I know). Point is, I was really exposed to my east coast mentality for the first time. It’s cool to think about other places even within the United States, but who knew I’d be experiencing it in Rome.

The first couple of days in Rome were governed by a long list of orientation activities including obtaining a permit to stay, a campus tour and a very quick walk around central Rome to get a gist of how to use public transportation. All the activities were surprisingly… uninformative. We all really had to learn these things by just getting out there and doing it ourselves.

This are a few photos I took on our way too fast walk through the center of Rome. Later I went back with my roommates and actually took it all in.

 

 

On the ruins of the building where Julius Caesar was murdered (“Et tu Brutus?” yeah that guy)….well now, there’s a cat sanctuary there. Being a crazy cat lover, I couldn’t have been happier. I heard someone say that there are Italians that think it’s disrespectful and are trying close the cat sanctuary. I vote that it stays…think of the kitties. (Unless of course when it closes I can take them all home).

 

 

 

 

I’m not going to go into depth about what these building are right now because at the time I took these pictures I had no idea what they were either. I’ll talk more about them when I post better photos later.

Rome is full of the types of things you would see in NYC. Some common sights around both cities are street performers, vendors selling knock off bags and iPhone cases, homeless people, graffiti and the likes. Although it wasn’t a total culture shock for me, I was still taken back. I guess I’d never really thought about what Rome was like outside of its most famous monuments (how naive of me). As we approached the Colosseum I felt a big wave of disappointment flood over me. Somethings just aren’t how you imagine them to be from the medias portrayal of them…see below:

First, understand that Gladiator is one of my most favorite movies of all time. I know that this movie is completely fictional but its the best visual representation of ancient Rome that I can recall. Not only was the Colosseum surrounded on all sides by city but it was under construction. Poo =[ I know this is the way it always was, even in ancient times. To me it almost felt disrespectful, like a flower in a garbage can (thats a dramatic metaphor but the first one that comes to mind). Don’t get me wrong, the Colosseum alone is one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen in my entire life but taking into account the surrounding landscape…it initially didn’t live up to my expectations…thanks popular media.

 

One thing that did not disappoint was my first Italian meal. Wow! I did stick to my comfort zone a little bit by ordering penne alla vodka but it was better than anything I’d ever tasted in America. This was also my first time legally purchasing and drinking alcohol.
I’m going to talk about drinking a little bit because its definitely something that I spent a lot of time thinking about before coming here. Everyone is going to tell you something different about legally drinking so its better to just feel it out when you’re living it. I feel like everyone assumes that us underaged students will go crazy once we reach a country where we can legally drink (I’ve witnessed this more than once and its not all fun and games). It doesn’t have to be this way.
One of the first horror stories we had to absorb upon arrival was about a kid who died last semester after he fell off a bridge onto concrete while he was drunk. Another story, from this semester, that even reached the states is about a student that was last seen at a bar (in Campo di Fiori, where we usually go to drink) and was found dead a few days later. There have been stories about muggings and girls who were raped and it’s not just a scare tactic, here it’s real. If you study in Italy, it’s really important to remember that you’re in a country thats going through a financial crisis, there are a lot of unemployed young people here and they don’t see you as a nice American student, they see you as a target. If you study somewhere else, just be aware of the way people view Americans and take steps to not put yourself in a vulnerable situation. I always walk places with other people and I don’t get blackout drunk. Be careful. Thats my rant about that. No more serious stuff now.

The First Night is the Loneliest

The first day I arrived in Rome my other two roommates were not here yet. At an orientation meeting for our building I made friends with a girl and we made plans to meet up later and go explore a little bit.

The part of Rome that we live in is called Trastevere, or Old Rome. It’s located in southwest Rome below the Vatican and left of the Tiber River. It’s characterized by cobble stone roads and narrow streets.

When we met up we had no working phones, no idea where we were or where we were going. All we had was a hard to read map provided to us by the school. As it turns out…I discovered that I actually love walking around with no destination. At home I’m always glued to google maps on my iPhone. All that was about to change.

Heres are a few pictures I took on my first night of exploration around Trastevere…

These are all photographs of restaurants. Almost every restaurant in Trastevere (or Rome for that matter) has an outdoor seating area, sometimes fully equipped with awnings due to the common occurrence of rain. They’re all lovely and adorable and for the most part their menu items are pretty similar. They’re all absolutely delicious and if you search around, most are relatively affordable. (Not to say that I’ve tried every single restaurant, pshh I wish, but from what I’ve experienced so far these are my observations).

At the time, we thought this is just a random fountain and church that we stumbled upon after getting some gelato (of course the first thing I bought in Italy was gelato). Earlier in the semester, I couldn’t really tell you anything about it other than that its somewhere in Trastevere. Now after living here longer I know that the Basilica is called Santa Maria and it is located in Piazza Santa Maria. It was made in the 4th century AD. It’s one of the oldest churches in the city and possibly the first to openly celebrate mass. You can still attend mass here, in fact my roommate went this morning for Palm Sunday.
This is one of many bridges crossing the Tiber River. The water is definitely cleaner than the Hudson River but I’m still not sure I would swim in it. Apparently, the news showed a bunch of Italians who were jumping off a bridge into the river one summer.
More restaurants. I can tell you that this one is located close to the river because its named after the bridge Ponte Sisto, one that we frequently cross to get to Campo di Fiori…which is basically an entire plaza of just bars.

Since my roommates weren’t here yet and I was still in shock that I left my entire world behind me and was in a completely new place….I put on Friends (my favorite bedtime show) and fell asleep.

What an exhausting first day, and I was only just getting started…

 

From New York to Roma

Soooo, where to even begin? 

I think I’m going to start off by writing a little bit about where I come from, since none of this matters unless you understand a little bit about me. I grew up in New Paltz. Although its made up of scenic mountain ranges, it’s only about a 30 minute drive from NYC, so I’ve been there quite a few times and know what city life is like.

I attend SUNY New Paltz (yeah, I know I went really far). I spent all of freshman year and half of my sophomore year living in the basement of my childhood home, with my parents of course. For the most part I hung out with my other high school friends who had also stayed home. The common consensus is that anyone who stays in New Paltz never gets out of New Paltz. You get stuck there and can never escape. Those who do get out are lucky. Unfortunately, I was one of those people that had a harder time branching out. At last I decided it was time to get the heck out of there and just go for it. Of course it was a little nerve recking and a lot scary but I was up for the adventure. I knew that no matter what all my family and friends back home would be waiting for me and I actually got a lot closer with everyone back home upon leaving. (A good way to find out who your real friends are is to study abroad.) Now I’ve been living in Rome for almost four months. Tada!

This blog is definitely going to have a small town girl to city girl theme, bear with me…Now on to the fun stuff! I am starting this blog a lot late so I’ll try my best to remember everything thats happened.

My flight from Newark, New Jersey left at 9:20pm on January 6th. Leaving my parents at the security point was surprisingly easy for me. There were no tears just excitement and happiness. Plus I knew I was going to text them in about 20 minutes. As I stood on the security line by myself, no longer able to see my parents I got my first wave of reality. I was really going to Rome! My hands were shaking and my heart was racing. I finally got to my seat on the plane and tried to calm some of my nerves with some music. The hospitality of British Airlines honestly surprised me although I had to pass up on dinner (to nervous to eat). I did manage to sleep however (I’ve never had a hard time with that). After catching myself drooling on the seat a couple times we finally started to land. I had a layover in a very lousy, rainy London that hardly lasted 30 minutes (of running through Heathrow) and then I was off to Rome! On the flight from London to Rome I was lucky enough to have a window seat…but of course I fell asleep. BUT, not before taking this picture of….well I’m not really sure what it’s of…it was a long day okay.

 

Bam! We landed in Rome! When I left NY is was bundled in a big sweater, two pairs of leggings, socks, leg warmers, a scarf and a hat. Rome on Tuesday January 7th was experiencing a beautiful sunny day. The temperature was somewhere in the 50’s although to this girl it felt at least 75. Needless to say I was a sweaty mess by the time I finally reached my apartment in Rome. Plus side, my apartment is beautiful!

I have two roommates and we all share one big bedroom. This is my space. We were provided with a desk, lamp, closet, sheets and a confortmer, a pillow, towels and a cork board. I’ve always been the kind of person who surrounds myself with posters, nic-nacs, tapestries and billions of pillows so this was definitely a change. I’ve come to like the simple life I think.

This is what its like looking up at the apartments from the courtyard. Super fancy.

We were also generously given some pasta and snacks for our first couple of days before we were able to hit the grocery store.

I was a lot of things when I got to Rome: nervous, hot, exhausted, not at all hungry (I don’t think I really ate for the first 3 days I was here), excited, a tad lonely, but mostly I was FREE. I’ve never felt so independent and liberated in my entire life. No parents, no rules (well there were some), and the beautiful city of Rome at my fingertips to be explored whenever I pleased. I was stoked.

First Impressions Are Often Entirely Wrong—First Days in Milan

I’m going to be perfectly honest here; my first two days in Milan were a certifiable disaster.

When I say disaster, I mean an eight on the Richter Scale. That’s enough to level a city. Why was it so insufferable? Let’s just say that nothing ever goes the way you plan it. Don’t worry, Milan has been amazing, and I love it here. However, sometimes, you just have a day that’s way too chaotic and where way too many things go wrong. Here’s the story of that day, co-starring jetlag and unreliable flight times.

On the flight to Milan, I was in total bliss. My choice of flight couldn’t have been better. I took Emirates airlines, which was a cheap, cheap flight. I highly recommend you fly Emirates if you can—they were great. I flew out on Super Bowl Sunday, something I relished, considering I don’t care much for sports. Due to this, the plane was almost empty. I read, I slept a bit, I ate two whole meals. When I got off the plane to arrive in Italy, I was still in that state of bliss. I walked through security casually, quickly realized every single person was speaking Italian—a language I only knew a bit of—and smiled, because, after all, that was what I came to Italy for. It was 10AM, and I had a whole day in Italy ahead of me.

I walked out into the airport lobby with my two large suitcases and realized my plane arrived two hours early, something which is usually a welcome surprise, but, when you’re getting picked up by a car service at a specific time, is a nightmare. I couldn’t think of what to do. I had no phone, barely any euro, and nothing to go on. I tried using my debit card to payphone the school, but the operator thought I was committing identity theft. I wandered the airport for a while, failing to get wifi, and, as luck would have it, found some kids who had suitcases even larger than mine.

While I am horrible at breaking into a conversation, eventually we realized we all were going to the same school. Luckily, the car service was picking up another group of kids, and I was able to tag along, after about an hour or airport wandering. Stepping outside, I quickly found it was pouring rain. Another damper on the day, with many yet to come. We were on our way to Milan though, which was a fifty minute car ride from the airport. I bonded with a few foreigners in the car with me, though, which was the saving grace of the journey. I wasn’t even in Milan yet, and I had met an Italian, an Australian, a German, and a kid from Holland. They were all very nice, and we discussed the differences between our countries and schooling systems.

Arriving in Milan finally, I was taken aback by the scope of the city. It was like New York City, but somehow, more magical. I know that sounds way too saccharine, but it’s the honest truth. I had dreamed of traveling to Italy for basically my whole life. It had finally come true. Through all the twists and turns, I was in Italy. I was in Europe for the first time, the first of many times I hoped I would get to visit Europe in my lifetime. The beginning of a great four months, and the beginning of a beautiful, life changing experience.

Before I could get to that experience though, I needed to get to my apartment. Which seemed so simple, but was excruciatingly complicated. First, I was chauffeured around Milan with the other three kids, as we brought them each to their respective apartments. This took two and a half hours. While it was nice to see some sights of Milan, it was painful to not be able to leave that car. I was then brought to my school’s headquarters, as the car service did not have the keys for my apartment with them, since I had arrived so early. I then had to wait in a dimly lit room at the school for two hours while the car service did their rounds, then came back to pick me up again.

By this point, jetlag had hit me severely. It’s like that crashing feeling you get around the middle of the day when your coffee has run out and you’ve just eaten lunch, except worse. I felt like crumbling into a pile on the unswept floor. My knight in shining armor, Mattia (who would go on to become my first Italian friend—more on that later) helped me carry my bags downstairs and helped load my luggage into the car to finally go to my apartment. After another hour and a half or so of driving around Milan, dropping everyone else off, I finally made it into my apartment, at 6PM, eight hours after I had landed in Italy. I thought this was the end of my suffering. Oh, how wrong I was.

I had chosen an apartment with two single rooms, and one shared room, in hopes that I would get my own room—a treasure for an avid recluse reader/writer like myself. I found I was the last to arrive, and was paired up with a roommate in the double room. I couldn’t deal with my disappointment. I declined going out to dinner, and passed out in my bed from jetlag. I was too annoyed. Little did I know, I’d become amazing friends with my roommate, Sean. Once again, more on that later.

church

The beautiful church right outside my apartment.

I woke up three hours later, confused. I hadn’t eaten all day, and had no food. I left the apartment to find some food, knowing that my search would be futile—in Europe, most places close after or around 9 o’clock. By sheer luck, I found an asian grocery and a vending machine, which provided me with a soda, a bag of chips, and some ramen. The finest Italian cuisine I could find. I tried to shovel the food into my face, but jetlag messes with your metabolism. I passed out again.

Università Cattolica del Sacro Cuore

Università Cattolica del Sacro Cuore

Waking up at 5AM (once again due to jetlag) I was ready to go to our orientation. Getting to orientation was simple, and it was nice to finally traverse the city. I was in awe at the architecture of my school, and the architecture surrounding it. Once again, I felt like a newbie freshmen, just floating around being nice to people in hopes that we would stay friends. It was exciting, yet nerve-wracking. The orientation was typical, but the true torture came in the form of sitting in an auditorium, waiting for my name to be called for an Italian language assessment. Two hours later, I went up, and embarrassed myself as memory loss brought on by jetlag caused me to forget any and all things I knew about the Italian language. I went home, defeated and sleepy. I napped, right before telling Sean to wake me up for that night’s dinner—I wasn’t going to sleep through the fun again.

That night was when my experience in Milan turned around completely, one hundred and eighty degrees. We went out to an authentic Italian pizza place with a bunch of locals, including the aforementioned Mattia. There were two types of water (natural and frizzante), two giant carafes of white and red wine, and of course, pizza. I actually got a calzone, which was basically just a prosciutto pizza flipped in half, but I got to try a bit of a few different kinds of pizza, and let me tell you—the pizza in Italy makes me never want to have American pizza again. The dough was fresh, the tomato sauce was sweet, the cheese was strong, and the prosciutto was to die for. The night was perfect. We bookended our meal with some espresso, and I went home completely satisfied, knowing that, while sometimes a landing can be chaotic, once you’ve caught your balance, all it takes is a good slice of pizza and a cup of espresso to let you know that you’ve made the right choice.

espresso

I was already hooked on Italian coffee.

 

 

On Waiting For Milan, Crippling Anxiety, and Anticipation of Pizza

One of the best moments of my adult life was leaving on the plane to Milan on February 2nd, 2014. It was so liberating, so intoxicating, and so scary at the same time. I felt truly alive. But how did I get to that point?

I always knew I wanted to Study Abroad. It’s a “part of the college experience,” many say. However, the college experience is very different for everyone, and that largely revolves around money. My family doesn’t have much money at all, and most of my tuition is paid through financial aid. This year, I decided to explore my options, and somehow, the stars aligned in such a way that I had enough money to get started in my application to study abroad, and worked it out with financial aid to have money to live abroad.

I had been planning to study in Japan, with a year of Japanese under my belt already. When I went to look up the program dates, I found that I wouldn’t leave until April, and wouldn’t get back until two weeks before my senior year started. I knew I couldn’t do that, as I needed to work during the summer and prepare for senior year. So it was back to the drawing board.

I delved into my past a little bit, and decided that, since I had taken a few years of Italian in high school, that Italy was my best bet. Not to mention, Italian is my other favorite cuisine next to Japanese. I could eat pizza for four months (I basically do that at New Paltz). I quickly sent in my application and transferred into an Italian class at New Paltz. My father and sister were very supportive, telling me to take the chance and apply, even if I only had some limited funds. I got accepted, and almost cried tears of joy. I was leaving the country for four months, and going to Europe for the first time in my life.

The weeks before leaving were torture. It felt like purgatory; a life in slow transition. I was working my same busboy job at one of the most unprofessional restaurants I’ve ever worked at. The pay was horrible and the days dragged on and on. I spent New Year’s Eve bussing tables. I spent most of my free time reading 1000 page fantasy novels. When I was in the pages of those books, I wouldn’t be thinking about how scared I was to leave, or how disillusioned I was with the prospect of not being in America in a few weeks. I couldn’t make plans with anyone—I would be gone. It honestly didn’t feel real, like somehow I would just end up staying in America. I didn’t want to, of course. The idea of living in another country was so surreal, however, that the exact implications of it couldn’t fully take root in my mind.

IMG_1018

 

A few weeks into winter break, I was lucky enough to go see one of my favorite musicians, Pat The Bunny, play in a loft in Brooklyn. He plays a folk-ish punk solo act, and he’s truly amazing. It was such a great experience to see him play live for the first time. He screamed and screamed and screamed, and my friends and I screamed back. I loved every second of it, but I was afraid of being away from such a culture in Italy. Punk culture really isn’t a thing in Italy, even among “alternative” youths. It really is a shame. I didn’t want to be away from all of these amazing people, but I had to if I wanted to go and experience new things. And honestly, that’s what studying abroad is all about; being out of your comfort zone to experience new, scary, and exciting things. I did get a shirt to take with me to Italy, though, and educate some Italians on some great music.

1521889_10203040451634477_881943222_n

Now, like most students going abroad, I was in a romantic relationship. The two normally don’t mix. My girlfriend was studying in France, and we decided to stay in our relationship, despite the distance. We’re already long distance, so it didn’t seem so crazy. Besides, Italy and France border each other. It’s like living in another state. She left about two weeks before I did. You’d think saying goodbye would have been hard, but we were both hopeful. Besides, there wasn’t much time to dwell on these things; I was leaving soon, and had some major work to do before I was ready to leave.

If you think the DMV is bad, you really need to step into a Visa Office at a foreign consulate. One of the most nerve racking moments in bureaucracy I’ve ever had was when I was told I did not have the proper financial documentation to be issued a Visa. I had to go back, into New York City, in person, to give them proof of financial stability. You’d think this would be easy to get, but I had to go to three banks to get the information I needed. One bank gave me the wrong papers, but luckily, I fact checked at another bank and set that straight, and went to a third bank to get a document notarized. I gave my papers to the consulate, in person, and they had me come back, in person, at 9AM in two days to pick up my visa. Three round-trip train tickets to New York City and $65 later, I had my visa. I was ready for Italy.

The first thing I did was leave my job as soon as possible. I was barely getting paid anyway, and when you find out you’re officially leaving the country, you tend not to care anymore about an extra week of mindless busywork. You have people to see, people to say goodbye to, provisions to buy and pack, and only a week to decide which five books you want to bring with you. Suddenly, so many things seem so unimportant, even worthless. Pretty soon, you’re gone. Who cares about an unfilled water glass on table ten, or an extra fifty bucks in your pocket?

I also had a book I was editing for a record label, which I had to get finished before I left. The work was hard, but it ultimately payed off. The book’s going off to the presses as we speak.

IMG_1268

I had some beautiful goodbyes. I roadtripped to New Paltz and saw a bunch of my college friends for the last time before I left. One in particular, Pauline, I hadn’t seen in 6 months. That was so fun to see her again.  The goodbyes were so hard that I just sort of faded away when I had to leave, and only said goodbye to one or two people. I even realized how much I’d miss the random acquaintances, the people I’d just see at parties or walking around campus.

IMG_1044

I had a nice lunch with my sister, who bought me some nice Calvin Klein shoes and a denim jacket, so people in Italy wouldn’t laugh at my horrible fashion sense. I was going to the fashion capital of the world—I at least needed to look decent. I had dinner at my great aunt and uncle’s house, and went out to BBQ with my another aunt and uncle. They told me they would pay for one of my plane tickets to travel—thanks for the trip to London, Uncle Pat and Aunt Donna.

My friends threw a party for me the night before I left. It was perfect. I realized how much I love all of these people I grew up with, and how, while our lives are diverging, we will always be close, and will be there for the moments that count.

The day I left, February 2nd, my dad drove me to the airport around 6 or so at night. We stopped for some coffee at a Starbucks—sitting there in the lounge, I think it finally hit him how I wouldn’t be there tomorrow, and it would be even harder for us to talk. He was so proud of me, though, and it felt great that he noticed how truly magical it was that I would be getting this experience. He dropped me off at JFK Airport, and I waited for my airline.

Getting on the plane, I truly realized how different my life would be soon enough. I would be forever changed by this experience. When I stepped off the plane back home into JFK in four months, the person I was would not be the same person I was in this moment. I was excited and terrified of this. I had all of the time in the world to be whoever I wanted to be. As the plane took off, I remember one feeling: liberation. I was on my way to see some of the greatest things I would ever, and will ever, see in my life. I was really free, and I couldn’t wait for my first slice of authentic Italian pizza.

IMG_1055

The end of an Era

The last week of volunteer work has quickly approached and even more quickly vanished. I don’t know how I managed to say goodbye without crying- but I believe it’s due my body turning off all emotions in order to function in everyday life (which is now… quickly… coming to an end in Italy).

I went to both elementary schools, where I used to teach English, to say goodbye. The reactions of the students upon my announcement of departure made my time there worth it (if I didn’t already feel that way before). From Pascoli, I received an incredible book on Siena and Italy written in Italian from the main teacher, and each and every student made me a card thanking me and wishing me merry Christmas as best they could… I had a pretty fun time deciphering some of the more complicated sentiments. Apparently this teacher gave me “the most incredible write-up that the staff in Siena have ever heard, and they were going to insert it into the IPSL blog.” Go me.

The Laboratorio was a little harder for me because a lot of the members didn’t understand that I was leaving for good… (for good for now). I had such a hard time saying goodbye to those friends who kept asking me if I would be back tomorrow morning like usual. While I made them a card with our picture to say goodbye, and I left my e-mail and phone number with a couple of people, I really don’t know how I am going to handle not seeing them anymore. Even the other volunteers- which consist of a bunch of little-old-ladies with a fancy for arts and crafts to do with Christmas shared in the upset of me leaving. It was so hard to walk away, and I really think I will miss this place the most out of all the places I have been in Italy.

The Mensa dei Poveri sent us off with another big meal. Plus some sweets and even a little bit of alcohol. Have you ever seen a nun take a shot of some after-meal traditional liquor? It is a sight to see, let me tell you that. We exchanged e-mails with her as well, and promised to send the photo of all of us together. She gave each one of us a bear filled with some interesting looking candies. It is going to be both strange and upsetting to begin volunteer work at the soup kitchen in my neighborhood. There will be no three course meals, for starters.

Here are some pictures of the Laboratorio and me with my elementary school class:

The Effects of Time

I can’t believe there are only two weeks left. I don’t know what I am going to do when I leave this city, these people, the language. There will be no more wild hand gestures on the street (and yes, I am discounting the man suffering from schizophrenia seen on the streets of new york), and there will be no more  strange Italian words like “boh,” which means “I don’t know.” Most importantly though, there will be no more Laboratorio, no more Mensa dei Poveri, and no more Elementary schools to occupy my time in. I have volunteered at these places for a total of three months now, and it is unnerving that this time can be ripped away from me so easily. Is it all over when I go home? Am I going back to the real world and leaving the fantasy life of Siena in the dust? I hope not. My friend and I have already started planning our visit back- but there is always that little issue of money that stops me from being sure of my future here. I know that I will come back- I know that I cannot leave this place behind for good- but I also know that the connections one makes in four months are largely just starting to become tight bonds and therefore can easily be broken. Will I continue to speak with the Italian friends I have met with any sort of consistency? There are obviously a lot of rhetorical questions to be asked here.

On the brighter side, I am now determined to make the most of my time here- (as the ephemeral reality of my stay in Italy has finally been put into perspective). Not that I didn’t “make my time” before, but now It’s incredibly easy to identify what is most important to me: namely volunteering and building on my relationships- and therefore, more easy to also dedicate myself almost exclusively to those things.

Wish me luck.

Venezia

Venice is probably the most incredible place I have been thus far. I spent two days there with some friends- and despite the rain and cold… and major flooding, I had the most amazing time. Not only is the city beautiful, but it has this small town feel that totally contradicts its true immensity in terms of the thousands of little streets there are to get lost down. I became the shopoholac that I never thought I would be- going in almost every glass store we passed by and allowing my frugality to emerge only so often in my decision making process. The hostel was easy enough to find as it was on the “main street” and there was literally a bridge leading to its front door. It is called the Venice Fish and despite some flooding on the lower level, it was a really nice place with big rooms and high ceilings. There was a ridiculous array of wanderers there- from a kid who started traveling 8 months ago around Europe as a final hoorah before he starts college, to a guy who has been studying physics in Budapest for last couple of months and just got accepted into the number one rated school for science in China. We ate a pretty bad free dinner at the hostel instead of spending money on another fancy meal like we had earlier- but it was worth the stomach pain that ensued after because I met some really interesting people in the eating process. It’s surprising how people can bond over a bad plate of pasta and some spicy sauce.

While we didn’t go on any gondola rides (because of the frigidity), I took a lot of pictures of them:

As well as a few pictures of the rivers that run through Venice in general:

The Basilica

The Basilica

Me on the Watery streets of Venice

Me on the Watery streets of Venice

The Venice Fish

The Venice Fish

Ringraziamento

Ringraziamento! Or in that American language: Thanksgiving. The Italians finally gave in to the somewhat frantic pleas of the thirty students who expected to stuff their face on the 25th. I was no exception: the tastes of turkey, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, stuffing, and even pumpkin pie all filled my mouth that day. It’s actually quite interesting to taste the Italian take on pumpkin pie, let me tell you. We all gathered around a long table- which happened to be in the cafe of a local bookstore- and told each other, (somewhat emotionally), what we were all thankful for. Not surprisingly, the fact that we were eating our first American-style meal in Italy, and the fact that we are even in Italy in general, was mentioned several times. What’s more, all the staff members of the S.I.S. program were the cooks for the night- so for once it felt like they were the ones with homework and a deadline rather than us students… how things change, huh?

Ringraziamento

Ringraziamento. Gwen prepared to chow down.

The Dinner Table

Peperoncini crusschi

Altomonte. A seemingly uneventful- and even, unknown, town to most… but after my visit, I know it will always be a place of great personal importance. My father was born in this small town, and when I first arrived, I was greeted by what’s left of our family there: my grandmother’s sister, her daughter, her husband, and their two children- all of whom became a part of my family- or rather, I became a part of theirs- during my three day stay there.

After a nine hour bus ride (which was grueling, by the way), I arrived in Altomonte at 6:30 am. Perfect timing right? Soon after, I was greeted by Giovanna and Mario who took me to their house located somewhat within the city center. The clouds hung low and our drive through the country was incredible. I was largely unsure of how to interact with my “family,” as blood doesn’t necessarily dictate relationships.

I was overloaded with food (to put it lightly), and received my favorite italian dish ever- direct from my grandmother’s mouth to her sister’s- “peperoncini crusschi.” I’m sure I spelled that wrong- but they are dried red peppers (not spicy), fried in oil until they are incredibly crunchy and then drizzled with salt. They are delicious… especially when there is a really cute older woman who can’t wait to make them for you.

My three days there were mostly spent running errands with Giovanna (which I really liked), picking up Rebecca from elementary school, and eating way way way too much. I solely spoke Italian for three days, and was amazed at how much my Italian improved by the end. I didn’t realize how important- or rather, how extremely beneficial, it is to be immersed in the language at all times. Unfortunately, back in Siena, I have about 30 other American students around me most of the time- and by no means do we consistently attempt to speak solely in Italian.

Being in Altomonte, seeing the house that my father was born in (which is now in ruins, by the way), made me think about what the word “family” actually means. I have a family in the United States, I have a host family in Siena, and I have extended family in Altomonte. From experience, I have found all these “terms” to imply completely different things, to evoke completely different sentiments, and to suggest completely different lifestyles.

While I found myself relieved to return to a city and house I knew after the mysteries of the ten day break, I found myself more comfortable with the “family” I discovered in Altomonte. We looked at incredibly old  pictures of my “family” in the United States, we ate food that I am accustomed to having back at home, and we even shared in activities (a thing that I really don’t get the pleasure of doing back here in Siena with my host family).

In all, I had an amazing time and am so glad that I got to meet them.