Who's Life Is This Anyways?

My alarm goes off at 6:30 in the morning. It buzzes and irritated I shut it off. I honestly have no right to be irritated. I set it early so that I would actually get up and be productive. However, productive is a relative term in Italy. In America I considered myself productive if I got up showered, dressed, and actually ate breakfast before I was out the door at eight. I would then bounce between work, school, and socialize a little in between. I would come home in the late afternoon work on homework and if I could muster up enough energy I would bike to the campus rec center for my favorite energy-boosting-carb-burning-sweat-inducing kickboxing class. After that I would more than likely end up in the common area with my roommates casually doing more homework, cooking dinner and cracking jokes with the TV in the background. PHEW! I got tired just writing that! That is definitely not the way it is here. My idea of productive as of this morning was to wake and walk to my favorite coffee shop and read some of my chapter book for class. Strenuous right?

 As I rolled over I heard the rain falling in its ever so depressing pattern. What is this?! Four straight days of rain?! “No piace (I don’t like this)” I moaned, making use of my still very limited Italian skills. Since my arrival everyone has said to wait until March rolled around, because it is sunny and just the best time of the year. Well, I don’t know if something got mixed up in the translation but last I checked it is March and there is no sun and it is sooooo not warm. Convinced I had been lied to, I concluded that today was not going to be a productive day. I no longer had the desire to get up early, and walk thirty minutes to my coffee shop in the pouring rain… no the pillow was calling my name, and after all I didn’t have class until 11.

Not long after I had fallen back asleep I heard the worst sound in the world. The jingling of keys, a knock on the door, and the sound of the broom handle clink against the wall. Panicked I bolted up. Judging by the sound it was about two rooms down. It was the cleaning lady! I really don’t like her…. Well I shouldn’t say that because she is actually very nice, but I don’t like the idea of having her. The last two times I have opted to sleep in I have had to hurry to get out of her way. At least this time I wasn’t just stepping out of the shower, but still I went to my wardrobe found some clean clothes and quickly put them on. I had my teeth brushed, and my hair fixed up a bit by the time she knocked on my door. “Premesso” she called as she unlocked my door. Seeing me walk out of my bathroom we exchanged our usual bonjourno. I always feel so weird watching her clean my room. I guess that it might just be my personality, but I feel that if it is my space I should be responsible to keep it clean. However, she comes nearly every day. She sweeps, mops, cleans my bathroom, makes my bed and even changes my sheets once a week. Not wanting to feel like an inspector, I decided I would go and get my free breakfast from the vending machine. Oh the vending machine… I feel this must be explained.

The collegio provides each student in the facility with a free breakfast between the hours of seven and eleven in the morning. You get to pick a croissant out of the vending machine and get a hot drink of some sort. Now this sounds easy enough right? Well I felt like the biggest dork the first time. I put my key into the slot, as I had been told to do and pushed the button for a cappuccino. All of the sudden the machine started to whirl, click, and make all these odd sounds. I watched as a little Dixie cup dropped down and the machine poured steaming milk, espresso, and sugar into it. As it dropped a stirring spoon into the cup lights clicked and a lot of Italian started popping up on the screen. I had no clue what it meant; I looked at it confused and didn’t know if it was done or what. It’s not like I have seen these machines before.  Seeing my expression this guy at the table got up and introduced himself. He said something along the lines of “you must be the American girl. If you need any help let me know”. I thanked him and everyone else followed suit and introduced themselves. I turned around thinking I will just smoothly get my pastry now, but of course the door was jammed and someone opened it for me too. Totally embarrassed I slunk out of the room. Just great I thought, now everyone is going to know the American girl can’t work a vending machine. Sure enough the word spread. My friend in the collegio, who actually studied at NAU last semester, told me at dinner: “I heard you met Andrea. He said you were having trouble with the machines. Did you get it figured out?”  I have since remet him, and I could not remember his name. “Mi dispiace, pero non recordo tuo nome? (I’m sorry but I don’t remember your name) “Andrea,” he told me, and then proceeds to remind me by telling me that he was the guy when I first tried to get breakfast! I laugh and I think of that all the time as I get my morning breakfast.

Upon returning to my room the cleaning lady had moved on. I finished getting ready and made my way to the university. Since I moved to a different collegio it is only about a five minute walk, which isn’t bad. I walked along the cobblestone streets, weaved through small alleyways, and dodged traffic, and in no time at all I was there. My first class was Civilita Inglese and it focuses on the colonization of India by the British. It is taught in English and so I can understand it with ease. We then have our usual two hour lunch break, and after eating in the cheap mensa I made my way to the Uni-Bar. There I ran into the other Americans and together we grabbed our afternoon cappuccinos to fulfill our newly acquired coffee addiction. The only down side was that we had to sit outside in the pouring rain, because the inside was full with graduation parties. However, the cappuccinos here are worth it. Honestly for a school bar they have the best coffee! I am addicted to coffee now. I never drank it that much in the states, but now I have one in the morning, one in the afternoon, and sometimes if I am eating with the Italians I have a caffé after dinner. It is delicious! While some people might be going oh that’s really not good for you, I would like to point out that the coffees in Italy are like a third of a coffee in the states.

Anyways, after we finished our coffee we made our way down the street to another part of the university. We have our storia della lingua del radio e televisione lesson. As the name suggests it is about the history of the language of the radio and television. Sounds interesting right? Well one minor problem: it is taught in Italian. Mama mia, molto frustrado! I have no clue what is going on at all. She speaks so fast and doesn’t seem to annunciate either. I catch about every seventh word if I am lucky. I focus like my life depends on it for the first half hour. I jot down words I actually pick out, however as my head begins to whirl I slowly start to lose focus. I wonder if she really knows that the Americans don’t understand a thing that is going on; I think there is no way she can’t know, but Sean thinks she believes we understand but that we cannot speak Italian. Whatever the case is I glance around and all of us have shifted our attention downward. Amy and Sean are playing a box game, Ross is making a list, and continue to draw another pedal on the flower I have started. Every so often I look up, but it is no use at this point. Amy turns to me and says, “I like your elephant”. “Grazie”, I respond noting that at least on the bright side my doodling skills have improved quite dramatically due to this class.

When was the last time you got to have such colorful doodles?!

Class is dismissed and I go with my friend to show her a shop where she can buy a bag for her weekend trip. Earlier that morning Ross had talked down one of the street venders into selling us his umbrellas for cheaper. Well I opened it up and the umbrella didn’t go up all the way. It was actually inverted and more or less created a bowl in which it caught the water in. Not long down the street the water started to pour done on my head as the umbrella could no longer hold it! I struggled to fix the problem, and for a second I thought I had; then without warning it went cricked and bent almost vertically up! As I stood there fighting my umbrella, Amy stood there laughing at me. “What are you going to do?” she asked. “se la vi” I replied as I tossed it into the garbage. Smiling I pulled my hoody up and said “I’ll do this Flagstaff style!” Lesson learned: there really is a reason you don’t buy the items off the street venders.

Luckily, I was able to find a good quality umbrella for a pretty cheap price because I then had to walk another twenty minutes in the opposite direction to go to the store for some food. The next day had just been declared a national holiday for the 150^th Anniversary of Italy’s Unification and that meant EVERYTHING was going to be closed. After getting my groceries, I walked the remaining twenty minutes home in the pouring rain.

Now take a few minutes and see if you can picture how elegantly the Italians dress. Here are a few hints: They are all color coordinating with knee high boots, long dress jackets and fashionable purses. Their color scheme is mostly black and grey with a bit of beige thrown in there. They walk with confidence with their umbrellas held high up over their head. Now picture the exact opposite. Try to picture a young American girl in a bright blue checkered ski jacket. White tennis shoes, and denim jeans, which are both soaked because of the various puddles she has awkwardly trudged and splashed through. She wears the classic Jansport backpack and is uncertain of how to hold the annoying contraption of an umbrella. Well if you pictured that, congratulations you just pictured me. As my one friend back home would say, I was one hot mess. As I walked home, I took to the path less traveled (yes, Thoroue would be proud). I listened to the rain drop on my light blue umbrella and it was oddly relaxing. I made notes to myself, starting with the importance of Europeanizing my wardrobe with at the very least some proper shoes.

As I walked into the room I could feel the water squishing around in my shoes and decided my first task was to get dry clothes on. I peeled off my shoes and socks and slipped into some dry sweats. In my room and in my sweats I am truly at ease. I feel the constant pressure fade away. There is no one eyeballing me because I am a foreigner, I am not struggling to understand everything that is going on around me, and I don’t have to try and form the most basic three word phrases hoping someone will understand my broken speech. No in my own room, I can take a pause from the rest of the world. I can think in my own head, in a language I understand inside and out, I can dance around to American music, read the news, and just be me. In a way my room has become a sanctuary; I have moments where I would be classified as a hermit and all in an effort to take a break from this new and confusing place. As I realize this odd feeling, I think to myself who’s life am I living? Surely this can’t be mine… but snap back into reality and yes it is.  Helen Keller once said: “Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all”. Well I have landed myself in the biggest adventure of my life, but the point is this IS my life… just another day in Italy.





Scenes from my life: at one of the outdoor markets



Piazza Duomo



Under the train station



Car I see around... Its sooooo cute!



Milano

Milano is just a short 30 minute train ride away from Pavia. If Milano (a.k.a. Milan) sounds familiar it is probably because it is the fashion mecca of the world. Now I am far from the fashion diva, but I still found it to be a rather enjoyable place. Let me tell you, there is nothing more entertaining than watching the people of Milan. Of course there are the women who are all done up: make-up, hair, nails, and the whole shebang. Her eyes squint and her personality… well to put it nicely she screams “not-nice” in big bold letters. She walks (more like struts) her stuff in rather large heels that I would shatter my ankle in if I even attempted such a feat.  She is the woman who wouldn’t be caught dead in last season’s outfit, or the wrong color purse. Oh yes she is entertaining, but my personal favorite is actually the man that follows her around. Just like the woman, he is fashionable to the T. He has got on the hippest outfit right off the male run way. He has even got the bling to match. But wait there is more! In the crook of his right arm he is holding the woman’s little Pomeranian and carrying ALL the bags; however, if you look closely you will notice that a good chunk of the bags and merchandise are actually for him. Again this is Milan people watching… free and 100% entertaining!    

Besides people watching there is also a lot of historical activities to do in this booming city. Now when you think city, do you think of a huge Gothic Cathedral in the middle of it all? I typically don’t, but that is truly the case with Milan. In fact, Milan is the location of the largest Gothic Cathedral in the world! This was far from an easy task especially when you consider that it took over five centuries to complete. It was started in 1386 and finished in 1965. That is incredible when you remember that it is made completely out of brick and marble, and this was started before major machinery. What I found to be completely mind blowing was when I realized that it took longer to build this single architectural structure than the United States has been a country! Seriously! The United States declared its independence in 1776, which means it has been a country for less than 300 years. It took five centuries to build the cathedral in Milan, and the United States has existed for half of that! Think of how many generations were spent building that, and how many people made that building their life work… it is really incredible when you put it in that perspective.

We got to go inside, and that was very beautiful as well. It was very cold in there and when we entered there was a church service taking place. The people were all bundled up as they sat there following the service. As we toured the inside there was beautiful displays of mosaic windows, paintings on the wall and even some odd statues.

In addition to going inside we also got to go on the roof. This was by far my favorite part of the cathedral. The roof top was awesome. From here you could really see the detail that went in the marble carvings. There were also angles everywhere, and it seemed to me like each time you turned around there was something new or a different perspective to take in.

I have yet to mention that I went to Milan the second day after I had arrived in Italy and that I had a fine tour guide. It was a friend of the family’s daughter, and she along with her two young daughters escorted me around pointing out the sights worth seeing. So after we had seen the infamous cathedral they took me to see Basilica Sain’Ambrogio. I found this church to be very interesting in its own way. It was not nearly as grand or bold as the Cathedral, but it has a very rich history. I learned that this church while not the largest in Europe, is one of the oldest in Milan. It was built in 379 and completed not long after in 386. A lot of this church has had to go under reconstruction, especially since the bombings during WWII destroyed some parts of it.

While I did see more sights while I was there, these were the main ones. I do hope to back to Milan a couple more times, and due to the location it is very feasible. I still want to see the original painting of Leonardo da Vinci’s Last Supper, which is located in the basement of a church in Milan. Plus I would love to see an Italian Opera at the famous La Scala Opera House. I’ll keep you posted!  

My New Home Away From Home

 

If you ask me what studying abroad is like there is no easy way to describe it. Imagine packing up your life into a single backpacking backpack and moving to another city. However, this city is completely different then what you are used too.  For instance, there is a complete climate change, your diet consists solely of carbs, carbs, and more carbs, and walking becomes your main source of transportation. For the first two weeks you are in your new city you have no means of technology. You literally have no phone, and no internet to Facebook, email, or skype. You have no radio, and no television. Then for fun you can only “speak” to people by playing charades.  That is my new situation. Italy is my new reality. It is more than I could have imagined and nothing like I expected.

I have been in Italy now for six weeks… yes I realize it’s a tad late on the blogging update but believe me when I say internet access has not been easy to come by here. A lot has happened that I cannot possibly update without writing a novel. So I will be really brief with the main points I have learned thus far.

1.       Control is an illusion --- there is no system. Whether you are waiting for the bus, the train, trying to figure out the school system, or dealing with the government, you will always have to wait on someone or something. Not only will you have to wait but it is not uncommon to find out that no one has a clue what to do or the process in which to get something done.

2.       Pizza or Pasta --- because those are your main choices. It’s literally carbs all day long.

3.       Carry a dictionary on you at all times--- whether you are using it for decoding the menu , figuring out if the laundry detergent has bleach in it, or interpreting the latest insult you here on the street you will be glad you have it.

4.       People do drive INSANE in Italy --- end of story.

5.       If you don’t like walking don’t come to Europe.

6.       Coffee is the main pastime of Italy--- and if you tasted their amazing cappuccinos you would understand why.

7.       Don’t call home and hint for a package --- you will pay out the wazoo in taxes for it.

8.       If you see Americana on a menu, do not buy it! I repeat: DO NOT BUY IT!!! For some reason everything in correlation with America in terms of food is disgusting weather it is in regards to coffee, burgers, pizza just resist the urge.

9.       Hot water for showering is a luxury, not a guarantee.

10.   Forget washers and dryers and learn to do laundry the old fashion way – washers and dryers are expensive and really rough on our "high-quality" American clothes. Oh and if you live in a collegio you have to make an appointment to use the washer that services 90 plus people.  

11.   People do eat at specific time periods--- forget late night Dairy Queen and Sonic runs because fast food does not exist.

12.   People in Italy love life, and enjoy living it. Time is very important in Italy, but only in regards to leisure. For example, if I just finished lunch and its one o’clock I know I have another hour to order and drink my cappuccino before meandering my way to class (which will of course start 15 minutes late).

I could go on for more, but I feel that is a good start. In the amount of time I have been here I have made it to Milan, Pisa, Florence, Venice and Verona. However, before I jump into those amazing places I feel I should tell you a little bit about Pavia. I am studying at the University of Pavia in the Lombardy region of Italy. For those of you who are rusty on your geography just think Northern Italy. How to describe it… well first of all I should inform you that the University of Pavia is one of the oldest universities in all of Europe. It was founded in 1361, and is therefore celebrating its 650^th anniversary this year. How do I like it and what is it like to study in a different country? Well  I will have to answer that in a different blog because there is too much to tell.

Besides the university itself, the actual climate is super cold. Now after a couple of years in Flagstaff I have learned to deal with the cold and I can’t say I mind it that much, but here it is different. I have never been so cold in my life. Due to the humidity, the cold seems to seep into you. It was foggy, gloomy, overcast and rainy for the first couple of weeks I was here. I realized just how much of a spoiled “zonie” I was when I would wake up, slink to the window and as if scared for what I would see I’d squint out the window, hoping and praying for just a touch of sun. The weather didn’t make exploring any fun, but I hear now is the time of year it starts to get nicer.



Rainy



and Fog

Despite the weather I have still been able to explore a little here and there. If you ask the university kids here not many say they like it, and say there is nothing to explore. They claim there is not much to do here, and in many ways that is true. It has a small center and only one club pretty removed from town. However, I actually like it. It is a smaller town with around 70,000 residents, and to the foreigner like myself I find it much more fascinating.

For instance when I first arrived and lived in my first collegio, I got into a sort of routine. I would wake up in the morning and go to a bar (in Italy cafés are called bars and bars are cafés, so no I am not drinking alcohol in the morning). The same man would wait on me and it got to the point where I just walked in, sit down, and he would bring me my cappuccino. This became my morning sanctuary. While the man didn’t speak any English, this was oddly one of the few places I felt welcomed. It got to the point where I would go to his bar in the morning, sip my cappuccino, eat my cornetto, and write. Every now and again a local would sit by me and strike up a conversation. In broken Italian and a lot of charades we would get our points across… or at least I think we did. It was obvious I was a foreigner, but that didn’t make a difference. He treated me the same as everyone else, well almost. I doubt he gave many of his regulars lessons in Italian but I got a few. One day I didn’t know the name of something I ordered. So I went to the case of pastries and asked “Come se dice… in italiano?” (How do you say this in Italian?) He followed me over to the counter and very patiently pointed to each one and had me repeat after him. The whole family got a kick out of it, and I am sure the rest of the on lookers did too; however, everyone knew I was trying and that they respected. Not only did I learn a little Italian here, but I was also able to watch and pick up on some subtle customs.  For example you pay after you eat here. I tried to pay right after ordering and I got ushered to a table and told “dopo, dopo!” (after, after!) Not only do you pay after, but it is completely on the honor system. Sometimes the man didn’t see or remember what you had specifically gotten and you had to tell him. Once he repeated back an order to me and because my lack of Italian skills I thought he had charged me for everything. However, when I looked at the receipt I realized that he hadn’t and so I went back and repaid. A few days later he only charged two girls for two coffees and two croissants. They laughed as they told him that they had in fact eaten four croissants because they were extra hungry that particular morning. I was amazed at how lax he ran his business… oh and did I mention that he kept his money drawer out in the open where it could be accessed without much difficulty. Plus when you hand money over you never directly hand it to a person. Instead you place it on the counter and they place your change there. I think the idea of taking money directly from a person is considered rude if it can be avoided. And I digress, how I love my little coffee shop.

Anyways after getting my cappuccino, I would walk thirty minutes to the center of town to the University for my language class. I would walk under the train station and down one of the main streets. Sounds boring right? Well what if I told you that I walked streets made by the Romans… cool right? I have since moved to another Collegio (dorm) on the other side of the tracks, and while I don’t get coffee at the same shop I still walk the same Roman Streets every day. Plus now when I go to the grocery store I walk by a castle. A huge castle still stands to this day and everyone walks by it like it’s no big deal… but it’s a castle. Call me a dork but I think that is so cool!   

Cobblestone Streets





 

Castello







Pavia actually has a pretty unique history if you read into it. What a lot of people don’t know is that this small town is also home to Italy’s third largest dome after St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome and Santa Maria del Fiore in Florence. There was a tower standing next to it until 1989 when it collapsed, killing five bystanders. This not only had an impact on the town of Pavia but it prompted the main efforts to restore the Leaning Tower of Pisa. I have been informed that Wednesdays are University nights. Meaning all the students go out and hang out in front of the Duomo. The weather is just now getting nice enough, and I can’t wait for it start up.   









Henry David Thoreau once said: “Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined.”

Well since I was a little girl I have stared at the atlas for countless hours dreaming about living in Italy. I have imagined myself speaking the language, experiencing the culture and seeing the history rich sights of the area. Now it is time for me to live this life. As I sat on a plane headed for Milan, Italy there was no denying I was headed in the direction of my dreams. I left my home, family, friends, and everything that is familiar to me to live in a foreign land, and to be an outsider. As the plane began to touch down and I stared out the window looking at the small buildings and historic churches come more into focus, I could not wrap my mind around the fact that I was finally in Italy. I could see it; I could hear the pilot saying "welcome to Italia" but I was numb. I kept repeating to myself over and over again that I had made it. Well I have, and now in  I owe it to myself to make the most out of this opportunity. Here is too life and where ever it may lead; it’s time to live it up!