As I sit on my bed and plan out the rest of my weekend trips for the semester, I have a premonition the time will go by so incredibly fast. Someone mentioned the other day that we have been several weeks now. It feels like no time at all. In a moment of sadness, I realize I have hit a major barrier with what I really wanted to do while here: learning about the Italian culture. I continue to learn little things about the everyday lifestyle from observing but the major window into their lives is largely a private affair for them. They don’t let “tourists” into it, and essentially, that is what I am. I am here for several months, but then leave their life forever. Florence is a major tourist city, so that is what they know. They keep their guard up against people like me.
Not knowing the language has probably been the biggest obstacle. I can smile after an Italian woman asks me something, but in the end, no relationship will have been made. I won’t understand her humor, or eventually learn the ways in which the culture makes jokes simply because I can’t talk with them. I get increasingly frustrated with the fact that I can’t communicate with Florentines. I have been with friends who speak the language well, so they have conversations. After, she may mention something the person said or generalize that he or she thinks _______ about their city but how do I get to know these things when most Italians don’t speak the only language I do?
The Italy I see is so different from the Italy they know is reality. The entrance is not passed over lightly. One thing I do know, individuals who speak English have a special bond here, especially English speakers from the states. Last week, I was sitting in a restaurant near campus waiting for my food. While seated, I decided to pull a book out for nutrition class. The woman next to me saw the title and started up a conversation. Little things such as joking about the title of a book with a complete stranger don’t usually happen in the states. It just felt different, almost like we hold on to other individuals like us here.
On a much different note, on Wednesday night I had my first cooking class. We made pasta, not from a box! Just eggs, flour, a tiny bit of olive oil and salt, and a pasta making machine. Well, you can’t really call it a machine because there was nothing electronic about it. It was more like a press that we had to crank after sending the “dough” through to smush it. We made three kinds, ravioli with spinach and ricotta cheese filling (the best), fettuccini with a creamy tomato sauce, angle hair with a tomato/pepper sauce, and for dessert tiramisu. While eating our creations after, I kept thinking, “wow! I made every single thing in this dish, except growing the fresh herbs and laying the eggs“. No preservatives or anything went into it. Such a great feeling! Also, I have discovered why so many moms stay at home (use to) here in Italy, it takes forever to make pasta, which is the staple of their diet. It is easy to make, just a lot of time goes into kneading it then pressing it several different times to get the desired texture and strength. It tastes so amazing and does not compare at all to the box stuff. On Friday, I have my first cooking class with my actual nutrition/cooking class. Two in one week? Yes, please!
Sarah
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Surprise!
This past weekend was great, even though I kinda feel like I wasted it, but I really didn’t. I stayed here and spent time with friends. It was such a great bonding weekend, and exploring the city more. It was also a semi lazy weekend which was wonderful.
This weekend has been great though. Along with spending time with people, I have learned something major about myself, which was a long time coming. It’s more complicated than these few words, but I have learned why I like to be so busy all the time at school. Literally ever second of my day is packed with something I want/should/need to do. I find my identity and emotions in how many people are counting on me that day. Here, I am just a student. Period. So it has been a tough transition for the past week and a half or so. At first, it was wonderful not having any responsibility, but as I just said, it’s getting tougher since I realize that part about myself, and want to adjust that since obviously that’s not what (meaning who) holds my identity.
A couple friends and I have a standing Sunday night dinner date which is exciting! It is a little place right next to the school, a good central location for us. We know it’s good when only Italians eat there and the menu is totally in Italian. It doesn’t see much tourism since it’s out by us also. We live in an area with no tourism, only locals. It makes it more difficult to order but our lovely waiter speaks English. We have had him twice now. The first time, I ordered a Fanta (I have fallen in love with their “orange” Fanta which is different than the states). His response after I asked if they had it, “It’s babies drink. You still want?” Of course I had to be on the defense and explained I would be drinking some of the wine also. It’s good to know I drink a babies drink.
So, highlight of my weekend: Mark Schultz just showed up at the worship service I have been going to on Sunday nights. For those of you who like contemporary christian music, you know who that is. He’s a big name in the music business. Pretty sure most people know several of his top hits on the radio. I was literally in shock when I found out. Here’s how it went down: we had a few normal worship songs with music by a local Italian directing. Then, the woman who was directing the service stands up, says a few words with a prayer and says “we also have Mark Schultz here tonight. He is staying in Florence for two months and wanted to join us.” then she sits down. I knew his name but at this point, I was like, ‘Noooooo!, not THE Mark Schultz‘. She down played who he was so much I was completely doubting he had any major hits on the radio. Well, he stands up and starts singing a song I know very well, “I am”. The girl next to me leans over and said the exact thing I was thinking, doubting he was actually the guy we were thinking. Weirdest thing ever! I felt like I was in a movie. It was great! Even right now I am like, really? That woman couldn’t have prepared us a little better? I normally don’t get star struck, they are people just like me who happen to have a talent, I am just so surprised he just popped in to play for 40 or so people at a tiny English church. There aren‘t many English churches so I‘m guessing he will be back. P.s. “Remember Me“…go listen to it right now. Such a sweet song!
I continue to love my host family more and more. They are so sweet and frequently go out of their way to meet any needs Claire and I might have. My roommate and I have started taking our Italian notebooks to the dinner table to practice. It forces me to speak, and the notebook gives me the security I feel I need. Bruno picks on me because in any given sentence I will include 4 different languages: English, French, Spanish, and Italian…in that order. He finds it funny. I wish my Italian prof found it funny.
Monday I had my ‘Artistic Patronage of the Medici’ class. It is a once a week class and 3 hours long, but each class is at a significant historical site somewhere in the city, sometimes two. Today it was Santa Maria Novella. I had not seen it yet since it in a part of the city I don’t go to much but I fell in love with the story behind it, as I am with many of these old buildings. Last week, we were at the Medici Palace. I highly recommend reading a book on the historical significance of these buildings. In basic terms, we are learning families thought they could buy their way into heaven due to a law that came about just after Deuteronomy (and other reasons but this stands out the most to me)….I don’t have anyone to tell this to, so the blog gets it…sorry! At the risk of sounding egotistical, once again, I pass by these buildings often but don’t stop to think about who once lived there or what their lives were like, etc. I never once stop the think who walked the halls of that Palace I just toured or what ceremonies happened in the Duomo. The story of these structures are so complex that just by walking by them, no one could ever know it. Even in class, we can never understand the pressure these families were under to keep their noble standing for what they thought would be for infinite generations. They are just words to us. No emotion or feeling could ever be grasped by us who are unattached to the enormous pressure. The only world they knew was to be at the top. Once that ended, which it did for most (including the Medici family), their world was shattered. It is such a complex history which to us is just something to be toured and lectured about, a landmark on the map.
Sarah
This weekend has been great though. Along with spending time with people, I have learned something major about myself, which was a long time coming. It’s more complicated than these few words, but I have learned why I like to be so busy all the time at school. Literally ever second of my day is packed with something I want/should/need to do. I find my identity and emotions in how many people are counting on me that day. Here, I am just a student. Period. So it has been a tough transition for the past week and a half or so. At first, it was wonderful not having any responsibility, but as I just said, it’s getting tougher since I realize that part about myself, and want to adjust that since obviously that’s not what (meaning who) holds my identity.
A couple friends and I have a standing Sunday night dinner date which is exciting! It is a little place right next to the school, a good central location for us. We know it’s good when only Italians eat there and the menu is totally in Italian. It doesn’t see much tourism since it’s out by us also. We live in an area with no tourism, only locals. It makes it more difficult to order but our lovely waiter speaks English. We have had him twice now. The first time, I ordered a Fanta (I have fallen in love with their “orange” Fanta which is different than the states). His response after I asked if they had it, “It’s babies drink. You still want?” Of course I had to be on the defense and explained I would be drinking some of the wine also. It’s good to know I drink a babies drink.
So, highlight of my weekend: Mark Schultz just showed up at the worship service I have been going to on Sunday nights. For those of you who like contemporary christian music, you know who that is. He’s a big name in the music business. Pretty sure most people know several of his top hits on the radio. I was literally in shock when I found out. Here’s how it went down: we had a few normal worship songs with music by a local Italian directing. Then, the woman who was directing the service stands up, says a few words with a prayer and says “we also have Mark Schultz here tonight. He is staying in Florence for two months and wanted to join us.” then she sits down. I knew his name but at this point, I was like, ‘Noooooo!, not THE Mark Schultz‘. She down played who he was so much I was completely doubting he had any major hits on the radio. Well, he stands up and starts singing a song I know very well, “I am”. The girl next to me leans over and said the exact thing I was thinking, doubting he was actually the guy we were thinking. Weirdest thing ever! I felt like I was in a movie. It was great! Even right now I am like, really? That woman couldn’t have prepared us a little better? I normally don’t get star struck, they are people just like me who happen to have a talent, I am just so surprised he just popped in to play for 40 or so people at a tiny English church. There aren‘t many English churches so I‘m guessing he will be back. P.s. “Remember Me“…go listen to it right now. Such a sweet song!
I continue to love my host family more and more. They are so sweet and frequently go out of their way to meet any needs Claire and I might have. My roommate and I have started taking our Italian notebooks to the dinner table to practice. It forces me to speak, and the notebook gives me the security I feel I need. Bruno picks on me because in any given sentence I will include 4 different languages: English, French, Spanish, and Italian…in that order. He finds it funny. I wish my Italian prof found it funny.
Monday I had my ‘Artistic Patronage of the Medici’ class. It is a once a week class and 3 hours long, but each class is at a significant historical site somewhere in the city, sometimes two. Today it was Santa Maria Novella. I had not seen it yet since it in a part of the city I don’t go to much but I fell in love with the story behind it, as I am with many of these old buildings. Last week, we were at the Medici Palace. I highly recommend reading a book on the historical significance of these buildings. In basic terms, we are learning families thought they could buy their way into heaven due to a law that came about just after Deuteronomy (and other reasons but this stands out the most to me)….I don’t have anyone to tell this to, so the blog gets it…sorry! At the risk of sounding egotistical, once again, I pass by these buildings often but don’t stop to think about who once lived there or what their lives were like, etc. I never once stop the think who walked the halls of that Palace I just toured or what ceremonies happened in the Duomo. The story of these structures are so complex that just by walking by them, no one could ever know it. Even in class, we can never understand the pressure these families were under to keep their noble standing for what they thought would be for infinite generations. They are just words to us. No emotion or feeling could ever be grasped by us who are unattached to the enormous pressure. The only world they knew was to be at the top. Once that ended, which it did for most (including the Medici family), their world was shattered. It is such a complex history which to us is just something to be toured and lectured about, a landmark on the map.
Sarah
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Oh the places I go...with food.
Last nights dinner was wonderful. It really is the bonding time of the day with my family, which is what dinner is meant to be in the Italian culture. Bruno, the dad is back from Napels. His natural personality is so refreshing and funny. He smiles all the time and makes jokes just to see us laugh. I really like him even after 2 days. Dinner on this particular night was epic. My roommate taught them how to play beer pong and we got into a riveting discussion about which gelateria is the best. Since 3 Italians were discussing this I’m sure you can imagine how passionate it got. Eventually, they got so into convincing us theirs was the best, they completely forgot we were in the room. Epic. And typical.
I went to the market with my Italian community class yesterday and with my nutrition class today. Wow. What an experience. I didn’t think I could get so nauseous simply looking at meat. I can. Yesterday, I was a little grossed out, but today I actually had the Italian labels on each item translated to me by my prof. Lets just say cows intestines are furry looking. I thought it was part of a polar bear at first.
Along with the cows parts, ALL of the cows parts, I saw dead chickens from the neck up with herbs in their beaks. And I wonder why I never have the guts to ask what I am eating at dinner.
I love their concept of food though. Absolutely everything is fresh. I’m pretty sure that’s the secret to why everything tastes so much better here. We walked by people making pasta with eggs and such. Fresh markets with local, seasonal fruit is in several parts of the city, so easily assessable from most parts of the city. Even dried fruit was just made the day before, no prepackaged stuff. I feel more physically healthy and have more energy and I’m pretty sure that’s why. The olive oil is on absolutely everything. It is high in fat but that’s my main fat source, and it is the good fat so it gives me more nutrient and energy. So basically, I would like to take the nutritional part of Italy back to America and share it with all my friends…and the government. I’m not gonna lie, my nutrition class is brainwashing me to the Mediterranean way of eating. No more 5 a day for me (I am told that was our governments way of helping out the produce companies and no real evidence has been shown to support this fruit and veggie phenomenon).
So, my taste buds have finally realized, they will not be getting a soy chai tea latte anytime soon, so they have moved on to something a bite more realistic, white hot chocolate. Of course they don’t have Ghirardelli. That would be too easy, so I walked into the closest caffe near my house and asked for “cioccolato caldo”, the original would have to do. When it was ready, I eagerly blew on it to cool it, then tried to take a sip. I very quickly understood why they gave me a spoon on the saucer. It was so thick I had to eat it like soup. Not successful at all. Next time, I will try a different caffe with the hope of getting “cioccolato caldo americano”.
So, this sandwich shop I am a regular for lunch at, the one gentleman that takes my order seems very unimpressed with most things in life, including me as a potential “granddaughter” (as most men his age seem to view me). However, today, I made major leeway (spell?) with his partner who runs the cash register. He is also an older gentleman who doesn’t usually pay much attention to me. Today was Thursday though, which means I run to all my classes and am still late to everyone, and it was lunch time. My tummy was growling and the thought of sitting through a photography critique without any sustenance was not appealing, so I stopped in for a panino to go. I was a little anxious since I was already late and the typical Italian “I’ll get to you when I get to you” way of life was bearing down on me, which was very evident on my face. His partner clearly had sympathy for me and helped me. After I payed, he said “Ciao bella”. Wow! You can’t understand how excited I got! I am maybe, possibly, hopefully breaking into their world. Maybe closer to the end of the semester we will actually be on a first name basis…maybe that’s a little too hopeful, but I set my sites high. And bonus: he no longer charges me 4 euros, he now charges me 2.5 euros even though I get the exact same thing every time.
Sarah
I went to the market with my Italian community class yesterday and with my nutrition class today. Wow. What an experience. I didn’t think I could get so nauseous simply looking at meat. I can. Yesterday, I was a little grossed out, but today I actually had the Italian labels on each item translated to me by my prof. Lets just say cows intestines are furry looking. I thought it was part of a polar bear at first.
Along with the cows parts, ALL of the cows parts, I saw dead chickens from the neck up with herbs in their beaks. And I wonder why I never have the guts to ask what I am eating at dinner.
I love their concept of food though. Absolutely everything is fresh. I’m pretty sure that’s the secret to why everything tastes so much better here. We walked by people making pasta with eggs and such. Fresh markets with local, seasonal fruit is in several parts of the city, so easily assessable from most parts of the city. Even dried fruit was just made the day before, no prepackaged stuff. I feel more physically healthy and have more energy and I’m pretty sure that’s why. The olive oil is on absolutely everything. It is high in fat but that’s my main fat source, and it is the good fat so it gives me more nutrient and energy. So basically, I would like to take the nutritional part of Italy back to America and share it with all my friends…and the government. I’m not gonna lie, my nutrition class is brainwashing me to the Mediterranean way of eating. No more 5 a day for me (I am told that was our governments way of helping out the produce companies and no real evidence has been shown to support this fruit and veggie phenomenon).
So, my taste buds have finally realized, they will not be getting a soy chai tea latte anytime soon, so they have moved on to something a bite more realistic, white hot chocolate. Of course they don’t have Ghirardelli. That would be too easy, so I walked into the closest caffe near my house and asked for “cioccolato caldo”, the original would have to do. When it was ready, I eagerly blew on it to cool it, then tried to take a sip. I very quickly understood why they gave me a spoon on the saucer. It was so thick I had to eat it like soup. Not successful at all. Next time, I will try a different caffe with the hope of getting “cioccolato caldo americano”.
So, this sandwich shop I am a regular for lunch at, the one gentleman that takes my order seems very unimpressed with most things in life, including me as a potential “granddaughter” (as most men his age seem to view me). However, today, I made major leeway (spell?) with his partner who runs the cash register. He is also an older gentleman who doesn’t usually pay much attention to me. Today was Thursday though, which means I run to all my classes and am still late to everyone, and it was lunch time. My tummy was growling and the thought of sitting through a photography critique without any sustenance was not appealing, so I stopped in for a panino to go. I was a little anxious since I was already late and the typical Italian “I’ll get to you when I get to you” way of life was bearing down on me, which was very evident on my face. His partner clearly had sympathy for me and helped me. After I payed, he said “Ciao bella”. Wow! You can’t understand how excited I got! I am maybe, possibly, hopefully breaking into their world. Maybe closer to the end of the semester we will actually be on a first name basis…maybe that’s a little too hopeful, but I set my sites high. And bonus: he no longer charges me 4 euros, he now charges me 2.5 euros even though I get the exact same thing every time.
Sarah
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Under the Florence Sun
Wow! I don't even know where to begin. I feel like so much has happened in the past couple days. Throughout everyday, I think of stuff I am realizing and appreciate more here, along with little "awakenings" that I have. One of the top things I appreciate right now, which may or may not seem trivial to you, but guys here don't hold the door for women. He may look twice, or not take his eyes off her, but it doesn't cross his mind to be chivalrous, if he even knows what that means. In the lyrics of a favorite song of mine, "daddy didn't teach [them]". I also appreciate Mountain Dew, but that really is trivial so I totally didn't type that out loud...The last thing I will mention is my friends. I defintly appreciate my core friend group at home and at school. I have made some great friends here, don't get me wrong, they are amazing, but we don't have the depth and connection that happens at home. I realize it hasn't been that long, but the feeling is different, and I can't really explain that. Here, we bond because one of us just saved the other one from getting smushed by a moped (That is totally legit too. Several people have done just that for me. These drivers are crazy!). I am defintely having to be more intentional with my time, esepcially in maintaining relationships. (p.s. I am saying this because I feel somewhat guilty that I haven't kept up or responded to the amazing people in my life as I should have. I very very very much appreciate you though!!)
Ok, so on to my happenings after that long rant...This past weekend I went to Cinque Terre which is made up of 5 hillside villages by the sea. The views were stunning, ok stunning doesn't even begin to describe how they looked. They are way up high on cliffs with the Mediteranean (and all it's blueness) surrounding everything. Getting there was quite an experience and learning time! It was my first train trip, and I don't speak Italian....in Italy's defense, a lot of things were in English, just not everything. As is usual these days, we were a little lost as to what to do most of the time (put in my usual sarcasim for the word "little" and you've got how we looked and felt). So, after two tickets (one being wrong), we made it to Riomaggiore, the first village. While there, I stayed in my first hostile. Wow, I am NOT a fan simply because of my cleanlyness phobia with strange beds and linens, but the word "cheap" was leaping out at me everywhere. We hiked between a coupe of the villages which was a challenge. I am all about physical challenges these days so it was fun in its own way. I felt pretty beasty after. Great feeling of accomplishment.
The towns didn't have much to do other than eat Pesto, which they are known for, drink wine and eat grapes, which they are also known for, and take in the gorgeous scenery. We decided it was the perfect place to go for a wedding anniversary.
Coming back on the train, it was the strangest feeling. I was super excited to be coming "home". It literally felt like that. I loved the villages and the coast, but Florence is where I have strived to put down roots, and after Sunday afternoon, I know I have. Something I have recently learned about myself is I always try to make where ever I am living, feel like home. I unconscouly connect to people, places, anything and everything in the area, so I make myself feel like I am at home. Florence and I have done just that. Stepping off the train, I actually said, "we're home!" and got the biggest surge of excitment. (I feel incredibly stuck up saying this) but on the rather long walk from the train station to our family's homes, we had to walk through the center (where ALL the tourists go because the duomo is there and shopping, etc). I was getting a little impatient with them because they walk slowly, like tourists (big shocker!). After a long weekend and lots to do to prepare for class the next day, I just wanted to be "home" relaxing. Again, I feel snobby saying that, but I am not going to cover up that great feeling. It reasured me I have made a connection with this place.
Today in photography, we walked to one of the main tourist places. The project I chose was to focus on relationships and interactions between people. At the end of the 1 hour session, I realized the Italians are so dramatic and use their hands to make their point. Of course I looked for people who would come across in my photos as telling a story, so the more drama in the photo, the better. Glancing through them at the end, I chose mostly Italians, and not many other cultures (although almost every culture was equally represented). They tend to be a louder more vocal culture. They also are more affectionate. Even after being here for 2 weeks now, I have found that has rubbed off on me a tiny bit, if only in the little ways such as standing closer to another person as we talk. I don't have my "my space" issue I had as much.
Being in Florence has given me such a hunger for other cultures and people. Maybe grad school abroad is in my future....who knows.
Sarah
Ok, so on to my happenings after that long rant...This past weekend I went to Cinque Terre which is made up of 5 hillside villages by the sea. The views were stunning, ok stunning doesn't even begin to describe how they looked. They are way up high on cliffs with the Mediteranean (and all it's blueness) surrounding everything. Getting there was quite an experience and learning time! It was my first train trip, and I don't speak Italian....in Italy's defense, a lot of things were in English, just not everything. As is usual these days, we were a little lost as to what to do most of the time (put in my usual sarcasim for the word "little" and you've got how we looked and felt). So, after two tickets (one being wrong), we made it to Riomaggiore, the first village. While there, I stayed in my first hostile. Wow, I am NOT a fan simply because of my cleanlyness phobia with strange beds and linens, but the word "cheap" was leaping out at me everywhere. We hiked between a coupe of the villages which was a challenge. I am all about physical challenges these days so it was fun in its own way. I felt pretty beasty after. Great feeling of accomplishment.
The towns didn't have much to do other than eat Pesto, which they are known for, drink wine and eat grapes, which they are also known for, and take in the gorgeous scenery. We decided it was the perfect place to go for a wedding anniversary.
Coming back on the train, it was the strangest feeling. I was super excited to be coming "home". It literally felt like that. I loved the villages and the coast, but Florence is where I have strived to put down roots, and after Sunday afternoon, I know I have. Something I have recently learned about myself is I always try to make where ever I am living, feel like home. I unconscouly connect to people, places, anything and everything in the area, so I make myself feel like I am at home. Florence and I have done just that. Stepping off the train, I actually said, "we're home!" and got the biggest surge of excitment. (I feel incredibly stuck up saying this) but on the rather long walk from the train station to our family's homes, we had to walk through the center (where ALL the tourists go because the duomo is there and shopping, etc). I was getting a little impatient with them because they walk slowly, like tourists (big shocker!). After a long weekend and lots to do to prepare for class the next day, I just wanted to be "home" relaxing. Again, I feel snobby saying that, but I am not going to cover up that great feeling. It reasured me I have made a connection with this place.
Today in photography, we walked to one of the main tourist places. The project I chose was to focus on relationships and interactions between people. At the end of the 1 hour session, I realized the Italians are so dramatic and use their hands to make their point. Of course I looked for people who would come across in my photos as telling a story, so the more drama in the photo, the better. Glancing through them at the end, I chose mostly Italians, and not many other cultures (although almost every culture was equally represented). They tend to be a louder more vocal culture. They also are more affectionate. Even after being here for 2 weeks now, I have found that has rubbed off on me a tiny bit, if only in the little ways such as standing closer to another person as we talk. I don't have my "my space" issue I had as much.
Being in Florence has given me such a hunger for other cultures and people. Maybe grad school abroad is in my future....who knows.
Sarah
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Everyday life
Oh my goodness! I love my photography and nutrtion class! The nutrition is basically the same class I took at Salem with one major exception: it focuses on the Mediterranean life style, because it's not really a diet, it is mostly the way in which they view food and how it is consumed. I won't bore you with the specifics I have learned, but it's really fascinating because it gets to the heart of what the culture believes also.
Three hours of taking pictures in Firenze? Yes, please! I just came from my photography class which will be major work outside of class as well as in it, but fun work. What we did today: went to the "park" right outside our gallery (Piazzale Donatello) and practiced what we learned about shutter speeds and such (again, I won't bore you with that stuff). Some of the girls and I had fun scarring the pigeons to create movement. If I learn nothing else from this, I have become an expert at throwing sticks at birds. Our small class was entertainment for Italians relaxing in the park also.
I am so proud of myself! I seem to have a natural ability to pick up Italian. It's so great and majorly helpful for survival. In Italian class, I still don't know the vocab well, but I can pronounce the words well.. I love saying the "r". So much fun! Last night, my roommate and I (who is feeling much better) were entertaining our host mom. We must have asked her how to say "fork" 10 times, even now I can't remember what the word was. I no longer have to say "scusa" or "grazie" a million times during the day. (I only said them because they were the only words I knew, haha). Although, I have a feeling "Ciao bella" will continue to be a favorite.
This weekend, I am going with some friends to Cinque Terre. I had never heard of it until someone walked up to me and asked if I wanted to go. Why not? At this point, the only details I know is when we are leaving, how many nights we are staying, and bring a bathing suit. At home, I would not have liked such little information and planning, here I find it exciting....I never thought with my personality that would be so, but it is. Let the adventure begin!
Sarah
Three hours of taking pictures in Firenze? Yes, please! I just came from my photography class which will be major work outside of class as well as in it, but fun work. What we did today: went to the "park" right outside our gallery (Piazzale Donatello) and practiced what we learned about shutter speeds and such (again, I won't bore you with that stuff). Some of the girls and I had fun scarring the pigeons to create movement. If I learn nothing else from this, I have become an expert at throwing sticks at birds. Our small class was entertainment for Italians relaxing in the park also.
I am so proud of myself! I seem to have a natural ability to pick up Italian. It's so great and majorly helpful for survival. In Italian class, I still don't know the vocab well, but I can pronounce the words well.. I love saying the "r". So much fun! Last night, my roommate and I (who is feeling much better) were entertaining our host mom. We must have asked her how to say "fork" 10 times, even now I can't remember what the word was. I no longer have to say "scusa" or "grazie" a million times during the day. (I only said them because they were the only words I knew, haha). Although, I have a feeling "Ciao bella" will continue to be a favorite.
This weekend, I am going with some friends to Cinque Terre. I had never heard of it until someone walked up to me and asked if I wanted to go. Why not? At this point, the only details I know is when we are leaving, how many nights we are staying, and bring a bathing suit. At home, I would not have liked such little information and planning, here I find it exciting....I never thought with my personality that would be so, but it is. Let the adventure begin!
Sarah
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
The daily grind-or not grind
As I do a walk-run through the busy streets of Florence, I am struck with the thought, at what age do Italian women get the privilege of looking at faces while they walk? Perhaps it is my Salem upbringing, or perhaps just the woman in me that wants to be able to look at people if I please, without being bothered. And I do please. As I pass by many people, the men look up at female passer-byers. Younger women take the typical stone face straight ahead approach, that I have spoken of before. Can I not look in the faces of those around me without unwanted attention, especially at night? But again I repeat, at what stage in life can women start taking on the privilege of Italian men and observe EVERYONE around them?
While exercising my body, I noticed an older Italian man who could nothing more than balance with the stone wall and stairring straight down at the ground. I have to strongly resist the urge to walk over to him and help him to his destination. Maybe it is just my rushed lifestyle back home, but I notice more "grandpa" and "grandmas" in Firenze. I can't help but smile at each of them, even if they don't notice me look back.
Julio is my host mom's grandson. He is just about the cutest thing I have seen. As he eats his snakes (green beans), he repeats an Italian word over and over as if trying it out on his 3 yr. old tongue. Children are the same no matter what culture or language they speak. He speaks very little english, but his precious smile is universal.
As for my classes, I have discovered I can't escape New Zealand no matter what I do. The professor of my nutrition/cooking class is from there. He has to adjust his speech to American English so we can understand him. That stuff you feed to cars is "gas" we inform him. I think that will be my favorite class with a close runner up, photography. Photography should help with my "artistic release" in a constructive way. We will be using photoshop mostly instead of a dark room. Kind of disappointed, but this is the 21st century I guess. Major studio hours will have to be put in on my time along with class time 6 hours a week, but I will finally have a beginning photography class under my belt.
Cooking. Love that word! I am showing up to a class 10 minutes late in the morning simply so I can be sure to reserve a spot for the 5 classes throughout the semester. I have looked at the description several times today simply because I am so in love with these classes that haven't even started yet. I love the art that comes along with cooking. There is such a complexity of it. Perfect proportions. Perfect texture. Such creativity.
Sarah
While exercising my body, I noticed an older Italian man who could nothing more than balance with the stone wall and stairring straight down at the ground. I have to strongly resist the urge to walk over to him and help him to his destination. Maybe it is just my rushed lifestyle back home, but I notice more "grandpa" and "grandmas" in Firenze. I can't help but smile at each of them, even if they don't notice me look back.
Julio is my host mom's grandson. He is just about the cutest thing I have seen. As he eats his snakes (green beans), he repeats an Italian word over and over as if trying it out on his 3 yr. old tongue. Children are the same no matter what culture or language they speak. He speaks very little english, but his precious smile is universal.
As for my classes, I have discovered I can't escape New Zealand no matter what I do. The professor of my nutrition/cooking class is from there. He has to adjust his speech to American English so we can understand him. That stuff you feed to cars is "gas" we inform him. I think that will be my favorite class with a close runner up, photography. Photography should help with my "artistic release" in a constructive way. We will be using photoshop mostly instead of a dark room. Kind of disappointed, but this is the 21st century I guess. Major studio hours will have to be put in on my time along with class time 6 hours a week, but I will finally have a beginning photography class under my belt.
Cooking. Love that word! I am showing up to a class 10 minutes late in the morning simply so I can be sure to reserve a spot for the 5 classes throughout the semester. I have looked at the description several times today simply because I am so in love with these classes that haven't even started yet. I love the art that comes along with cooking. There is such a complexity of it. Perfect proportions. Perfect texture. Such creativity.
Sarah
The Breakdown
Last night was the low point of my trip so far. I thought I was handling everything well, and I really am, just not as well as I originally thought. I have been really spacie the past couple days and haven’t remembered little details well. I think so much is being put on me so quickly, my brain is yelling to slow down. I guess I should have recognized my spacieness as a sign, but this is me we are talking about. It had to yell at me to tell me what I needed to hear/didn’t recognize. Sunday, I went with my host mom and sister to a place on the other side of the Arno, which is more scenic. The view was incredible! I don’t think anyone could look at it and not be impressed. So stunning. We then went to a church, San Minatra (I think that’s the name, my host mom is hard to understand sometimes). It was also absolutely stunning. Such detail and history is rarely found in the US.
Continuing the emersion weekend with my family, they drove me by several churches in the city as well as the Biblioteca Nationale Centrale, Maria Novella, and other places such as a park that has concerts until the end of September, a market that has great vintage on Tuesday mornings (Yes, please!), and I can’t remember what else. After a day (and a week before), of many adventures and so much detail, I was mentally exhausted. I am so eager to learn everything about the goods, the bads, the problems and any details about Florence. Every opportunity I have, I ask question after question to the locals (some are very willing to talk to a little ole student like me), and my host family especially. I feel like I need a tape recorder because I can’t remember even half of the answers to stuff I ask, but back to the point.
After almost a full week of this, I found myself in an English church service, thousands of miles away from my mommy and daddy, ready to cry my eyes out because I was so tired (I had to contain myself, I was in public after all!). I was sitting there thinking how this has been great, but I am ready to return to my real life. What the crap am I doing here? It’s gorgeous and amazing and I absolutely love it, but at the same time, I miss my other life also. It’s like I’m living a dream. Everything has been removed from my reality, and Florence remains. Even now, I can’t put the feelings into words. So after a rather difficult service, I really just wanted someone I could “click” with. A friend who would open up totally to me, even after a few minutes. Someone I could be myself around almost immediately. As most of you that know me fairly well know, stuff has to click with me. I can basically never explain what I am looking for or after the “click“, what it is that finally did the “clicking”, it’s just something about me, and at that moment, I was desperate for it. Well, the service ended and the rather small group of us moved up to the kitchen for drinks and a snack before heading home….I found that “click”. The graduate school, married couple is basically my age and here for the semester. I left with the greatest relief. I was so relieved I walked home at night by myself, stupid move in hind sight. The guys here are so rude. My host mom is the greatest though. I came home 1.5 hrs. late for dinner, she knew where I was though. I was so sorry, even now I feel horrible! But she greeted me with “What’s happening?” and a delightful expression. She wasn’t upset or anything. She is very protective so I was surprised she didn’t give me a comment about it.
Maria is very motherly though. Much more so than I thought she would be. I tried to leave the house with wet hari one day, she said, “Best to dry hair before leaving. Cold in mornings.” So I dried my hair. She also commented once, “You don’t each much” and tried to get me to eat more. What am I suppose to say to that? I eat like normal. I have noticed since then, she gives me my piece of xyz, then cleans the bowl and gives it to me also…trying to get me to eat more? That’s not a bad thing because I have basically gone to 1.5 meals a day. I don’t like the sandwich meat here. Mom and dad, you know how picky I am about that type thing! After I got home late Sunday night, Maria was forcing more and more pizza down me because she discovered I loved the sauceless kind. “It makes me glad you get pleasure from my cook” was her reaction, in a strong Italian accent. She even smiled. A smile! That is a first. I like it.
I started classes Monday. While studying my Italian numbers, I was immediately struck with the feeling that Italian is so much easier than French. I can actually pronounce stuff! I think it’s the mix of unconsciously hearing it all day and my Spanish during public school years. yay!
Lastly, I can already tell that when I eventually have to return from the dream, it will be a little difficult transitioning back. In Firenze, there are no Wal-Marts or Food Lions. There are “supermarkets” but they hardly warrant the name. So, if you have a long list of things to get, you have to go to many different stores. The stores specialize in little things such as books, stationary paper, lingerie or whatever, and almost everyone of them is smaller than any store found anywhere in the US. Still, I bet the transition moving here is harder than moving back to the life I have always known.
Continuing the emersion weekend with my family, they drove me by several churches in the city as well as the Biblioteca Nationale Centrale, Maria Novella, and other places such as a park that has concerts until the end of September, a market that has great vintage on Tuesday mornings (Yes, please!), and I can’t remember what else. After a day (and a week before), of many adventures and so much detail, I was mentally exhausted. I am so eager to learn everything about the goods, the bads, the problems and any details about Florence. Every opportunity I have, I ask question after question to the locals (some are very willing to talk to a little ole student like me), and my host family especially. I feel like I need a tape recorder because I can’t remember even half of the answers to stuff I ask, but back to the point.
After almost a full week of this, I found myself in an English church service, thousands of miles away from my mommy and daddy, ready to cry my eyes out because I was so tired (I had to contain myself, I was in public after all!). I was sitting there thinking how this has been great, but I am ready to return to my real life. What the crap am I doing here? It’s gorgeous and amazing and I absolutely love it, but at the same time, I miss my other life also. It’s like I’m living a dream. Everything has been removed from my reality, and Florence remains. Even now, I can’t put the feelings into words. So after a rather difficult service, I really just wanted someone I could “click” with. A friend who would open up totally to me, even after a few minutes. Someone I could be myself around almost immediately. As most of you that know me fairly well know, stuff has to click with me. I can basically never explain what I am looking for or after the “click“, what it is that finally did the “clicking”, it’s just something about me, and at that moment, I was desperate for it. Well, the service ended and the rather small group of us moved up to the kitchen for drinks and a snack before heading home….I found that “click”. The graduate school, married couple is basically my age and here for the semester. I left with the greatest relief. I was so relieved I walked home at night by myself, stupid move in hind sight. The guys here are so rude. My host mom is the greatest though. I came home 1.5 hrs. late for dinner, she knew where I was though. I was so sorry, even now I feel horrible! But she greeted me with “What’s happening?” and a delightful expression. She wasn’t upset or anything. She is very protective so I was surprised she didn’t give me a comment about it.
Maria is very motherly though. Much more so than I thought she would be. I tried to leave the house with wet hari one day, she said, “Best to dry hair before leaving. Cold in mornings.” So I dried my hair. She also commented once, “You don’t each much” and tried to get me to eat more. What am I suppose to say to that? I eat like normal. I have noticed since then, she gives me my piece of xyz, then cleans the bowl and gives it to me also…trying to get me to eat more? That’s not a bad thing because I have basically gone to 1.5 meals a day. I don’t like the sandwich meat here. Mom and dad, you know how picky I am about that type thing! After I got home late Sunday night, Maria was forcing more and more pizza down me because she discovered I loved the sauceless kind. “It makes me glad you get pleasure from my cook” was her reaction, in a strong Italian accent. She even smiled. A smile! That is a first. I like it.
I started classes Monday. While studying my Italian numbers, I was immediately struck with the feeling that Italian is so much easier than French. I can actually pronounce stuff! I think it’s the mix of unconsciously hearing it all day and my Spanish during public school years. yay!
Lastly, I can already tell that when I eventually have to return from the dream, it will be a little difficult transitioning back. In Firenze, there are no Wal-Marts or Food Lions. There are “supermarkets” but they hardly warrant the name. So, if you have a long list of things to get, you have to go to many different stores. The stores specialize in little things such as books, stationary paper, lingerie or whatever, and almost everyone of them is smaller than any store found anywhere in the US. Still, I bet the transition moving here is harder than moving back to the life I have always known.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Fashion
Shopping! Don't worry mom and dad, you taught me about a budget. The fashion is so different. I love color, but here, stores only have neutrals. It took me a little while to get use to the view in one rather large store today. I looked around me and everywhere was peach, cream, white, grey, and black. This could me a difficult change for me. I like color. I look best in color, but alas, I have learned to fit in more with the locals. Black and white it is.
Americans really do stand out here in Firenze. At first, it was hard to grasp my mind around why. Today, I think I figured it out. The Italian dress is so different. The clothes are not as tight fitting. Women, although they may have a great body, don't necessarily show off every curve, as American students tend to. T-shirts are form fitting, but not hugging. Dresses are flowy and loose. Lots of scarves. Very little accessories. Not flashy at all. Comparing the two cultures, Americans tend to be divas, Italians tend to be understated. Even hair is different. Again with women, their hair is almost messy looking. It is done, and combed at some point before they left the house, but it is also wind blown and curly beautiful. The students, including myself, tend to be more made up and perfect looking. We look like we spent more time to put every hair and piece of clothing in its correct place and lots of hairspray to get it to stay. These days, I only brush my hair once (relatively speaking, I'm still me).
Best moment of the day: sitting on the Ponte alla Carraia eatting gelato (what I survive on these days, for reasons other than it's amazing). Ponte alla Carraia is a bridge over the Arno. It was afternoon so the sun was lowering giving the surrounding tuscan buildings a golden glow. The temperature was perfect, with a wonderful breeze. Tourists passed by, yet it was so peaceful. Defintely the definition of relaxation.
Sarah
Americans really do stand out here in Firenze. At first, it was hard to grasp my mind around why. Today, I think I figured it out. The Italian dress is so different. The clothes are not as tight fitting. Women, although they may have a great body, don't necessarily show off every curve, as American students tend to. T-shirts are form fitting, but not hugging. Dresses are flowy and loose. Lots of scarves. Very little accessories. Not flashy at all. Comparing the two cultures, Americans tend to be divas, Italians tend to be understated. Even hair is different. Again with women, their hair is almost messy looking. It is done, and combed at some point before they left the house, but it is also wind blown and curly beautiful. The students, including myself, tend to be more made up and perfect looking. We look like we spent more time to put every hair and piece of clothing in its correct place and lots of hairspray to get it to stay. These days, I only brush my hair once (relatively speaking, I'm still me).
Best moment of the day: sitting on the Ponte alla Carraia eatting gelato (what I survive on these days, for reasons other than it's amazing). Ponte alla Carraia is a bridge over the Arno. It was afternoon so the sun was lowering giving the surrounding tuscan buildings a golden glow. The temperature was perfect, with a wonderful breeze. Tourists passed by, yet it was so peaceful. Defintely the definition of relaxation.
Sarah
Friday, September 10, 2010
Getting lost in Firenze
Today was incredible. And exhausting. A friend and I decided to try to get lost, which we accomplished. Our apartments are about 30 minutes away from the Duomo (which is a major landmark that people go by). This was the first time I have really ventured around other than around campus. Our campus is in the city, but I quickly discovered today that it is in a more residencial area. I have been thinking the whole time, I thought Florence was a major tourist area but where are the tourists? Today I saw tourists!! They are definitely here, but in the area I won't be in, except at night and for other leisure times. My typical day will not consists of seeing many of them, which is fine with me.
I met my host momma and sister last night, along with moving in to our apartment. She is so nice! I think we all need to get use to each other more though. Also, I am trying to remember she is Italian. Americans are one of the most friendly culture on the planet, thus we will not have the same stand point. Once she learns she can trust us, and just more about my roommate and I in general, I think our relationship will work better. The good and bad news is, SHE SPEAKS VERY GOOD ENGLISH! I learned more about the culture at dinner last night than I have the whole time I have been here. Bad: Once I start really trying to speak Italian, I will want and know I can keep my security blank of a language instead of trying. Again, I will have to push myself, even in uncomfortable situations, as I am majorly doing these days.
She is a wonderful cook though. I was shocked last night at dinner. We were having macaroni and cheese (with a tomato base, not the American version you all instantly pictured). She already had it served for us when we were called to the table. After finishing that, she took our plates up and laid down a second course of beef and veggies. After the pasta, I thought the meal was over. Wrong. We finished the meal with homemade lemon gelato. Wow! Thank god I am not a huge fan of beef. I was full. Definitely making a mental note to not eat the full amount served.
Also, today was a major landmark. I ate my first gelato. We had to stand inline for it. Of course, we can only get gelato in the tourist areas, so had to go into the historic district (near the Duomo again). There is an art to choosing which gelato shop to buy from. For now, I will say the ones with the lines are the best. Some of shop that put on a big show for the tourists skimp on flavor and quality. Not cool, and not me. In the end, the line was worth it.
Highlight of today (so far, it is not over yet), seeing the Duomo for the first time. Oh.My.Gollygosh!!!! It is the most magnificent thing I have ever seen! As most of you know, I am a sucker for anything with amazing detailing and architectural design. This masterpiece is no different. Just standing there (with my mouth open!), looking up at this ginormous structure and how is was constructed was mind blowing. I can not even fathom how long it took for each block, each cornice, each specifically planned piece of the building took to put together. So much love and care went into it, and it definitely shows.
The end.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
We are defintely not in America anymore...
Wow! So much has happened I don't even know where to begin, thus this will be a short update. (So many people to connect with, not to mention I am super excited for meeting my host family tonight!!)
I first realized we are no longer in the US when the flight attendants gave us wine on the plane...
The traveling and plane ride was intense. 24 hours of traveling. 4 airports, 5 baggages checks. Less than one hour sleep. Even 2.5 days later, I am seriously still recovering from jetlag. Syracuse threw us from the airport to the hotel (only to drop off our bags) then straight to campus to start multiple meetings. I can no longer say I haven't fallen asleep in a meeting before. I broke that, three times now. The shower I got that night was the greatest shower, ever.
The time difference is killing me. Apparently my body hates sleep changes, or maybe just country changes, but every other part of me loves it! Florence is great! So charming. So sweet. So foreign. I look around me when I'm walking on the street and can't understand anything around me. Everything is in Italian...big duh! As I stand in line at stores, I hear so many voices but can't comprehend anything they are saying. When I walk up to the counter, the clerk tries to ask me something (what I would presume is a question), but I have no idea what she is saying. I just smile. She quickly gets the picture. I want to smile at everyone on the street, like I would at home, then realize Italians don't do that. The women walk like stone (to avoid unwanted male attention), something we have quickly adopted. The streets and sidewalks are so narrow. Young people step into the street to allow elders to walk by-Not gonna lie, this has been difficult to remember, but really sweet!- Crossing the street is a nightmare. Cars (and lots of mopeds!!) speed by so incredibly fast. They like their car horns also. People park in the middle of street basically. I still haven't figured that one out, because it is clearly not a parking spot. That nightmare is so funny though. Some of the best times I have had with new friends has been trying to cross the streets. Just to see us American babies trying to adapt to our new surroundings must be hilarious.
I have already been so humbled by this. My new favorite phrase of the moment is "If you don't like being embarrassed, don't go abroad."
I am already sick of the food. Shocking. I know. All the meals, except breakfast, are so heavy. The olive oil is great, but my body is use to getting most of my calories from light fruits and veggies, with a little protein and carbs thrown in on the side, not everything covered in olive oil and heavy pasta with bread. Lots of bread, even for breakfast. Don't get me wrong, the food is yummy, it will just take some getting use to.
The weather is crazy. It has been unusually cool. The first day was very humid but yesterday it rained, several times with sun in between. After each rain, it got cold. A jacket would have been nice, but then warmed up to very warm an hour or two after, until it rained again. Today it is rainy also, and sunny.
The people are so blunt. I eat up every piece of information I get. I love this culture and its people. They are so wonderful and warm. Several older (very cute) gentlemen have helped us find our way. They are like our grandfathers and treat us as such. I think every fiber in us looked like lost puppies, which is how we feel most of the time. The feeling is great though. Simply being lost here is a great feeling.
Something I am having a difficult time grasping is the fact that everyone else in my life back home is 6 hours behind me. I got on facebook earlier today, only to find no one was on. It was like 6 am on the east coast.
I meet my host family tonight. So far, I know their names are Bruno and Maria. They have two grown daughters in their late 20s, one of which lives at home. They have only hosted for a year now, but the last girl spoke very highly of the whole experience. The best part-the momma loves to cook!!! So excited! I know we are not suppose to have kitchen access but I hope I can "suck up" to the momma so I can learn a little home cooking Italian style. (So upset that the cooking class I R.E.A.L.L.Y wanted will probably not be open to me!!!!! When I say so upset, I mean sooooOOoOoOoOoOoo upset!) I'm still holding out at registration tomorrow.
So basically, as new and shocking this new world is, it is beyond wonderful. This weekend I plan on getting fully lost in the city. I want to learn everything quickly so I can dealve in farther than I would be able to otherwise. Classes start on Monday which I am actually excited about. There are so many I want to take!
Sarah
I first realized we are no longer in the US when the flight attendants gave us wine on the plane...
The traveling and plane ride was intense. 24 hours of traveling. 4 airports, 5 baggages checks. Less than one hour sleep. Even 2.5 days later, I am seriously still recovering from jetlag. Syracuse threw us from the airport to the hotel (only to drop off our bags) then straight to campus to start multiple meetings. I can no longer say I haven't fallen asleep in a meeting before. I broke that, three times now. The shower I got that night was the greatest shower, ever.
The time difference is killing me. Apparently my body hates sleep changes, or maybe just country changes, but every other part of me loves it! Florence is great! So charming. So sweet. So foreign. I look around me when I'm walking on the street and can't understand anything around me. Everything is in Italian...big duh! As I stand in line at stores, I hear so many voices but can't comprehend anything they are saying. When I walk up to the counter, the clerk tries to ask me something (what I would presume is a question), but I have no idea what she is saying. I just smile. She quickly gets the picture. I want to smile at everyone on the street, like I would at home, then realize Italians don't do that. The women walk like stone (to avoid unwanted male attention), something we have quickly adopted. The streets and sidewalks are so narrow. Young people step into the street to allow elders to walk by-Not gonna lie, this has been difficult to remember, but really sweet!- Crossing the street is a nightmare. Cars (and lots of mopeds!!) speed by so incredibly fast. They like their car horns also. People park in the middle of street basically. I still haven't figured that one out, because it is clearly not a parking spot. That nightmare is so funny though. Some of the best times I have had with new friends has been trying to cross the streets. Just to see us American babies trying to adapt to our new surroundings must be hilarious.
I have already been so humbled by this. My new favorite phrase of the moment is "If you don't like being embarrassed, don't go abroad."
I am already sick of the food. Shocking. I know. All the meals, except breakfast, are so heavy. The olive oil is great, but my body is use to getting most of my calories from light fruits and veggies, with a little protein and carbs thrown in on the side, not everything covered in olive oil and heavy pasta with bread. Lots of bread, even for breakfast. Don't get me wrong, the food is yummy, it will just take some getting use to.
The weather is crazy. It has been unusually cool. The first day was very humid but yesterday it rained, several times with sun in between. After each rain, it got cold. A jacket would have been nice, but then warmed up to very warm an hour or two after, until it rained again. Today it is rainy also, and sunny.
The people are so blunt. I eat up every piece of information I get. I love this culture and its people. They are so wonderful and warm. Several older (very cute) gentlemen have helped us find our way. They are like our grandfathers and treat us as such. I think every fiber in us looked like lost puppies, which is how we feel most of the time. The feeling is great though. Simply being lost here is a great feeling.
Something I am having a difficult time grasping is the fact that everyone else in my life back home is 6 hours behind me. I got on facebook earlier today, only to find no one was on. It was like 6 am on the east coast.
I meet my host family tonight. So far, I know their names are Bruno and Maria. They have two grown daughters in their late 20s, one of which lives at home. They have only hosted for a year now, but the last girl spoke very highly of the whole experience. The best part-the momma loves to cook!!! So excited! I know we are not suppose to have kitchen access but I hope I can "suck up" to the momma so I can learn a little home cooking Italian style. (So upset that the cooking class I R.E.A.L.L.Y wanted will probably not be open to me!!!!! When I say so upset, I mean sooooOOoOoOoOoOoo upset!) I'm still holding out at registration tomorrow.
So basically, as new and shocking this new world is, it is beyond wonderful. This weekend I plan on getting fully lost in the city. I want to learn everything quickly so I can dealve in farther than I would be able to otherwise. Classes start on Monday which I am actually excited about. There are so many I want to take!
Sarah
Monday, September 6, 2010
No more security blanket
I am sitting here in the Charlotte airport bored out of my mind, but mostly a little insecure so to take my mind off the situation at hand, you all get to read a new post (not even an hour into my semester).
After fumbling my way through security, (I have never gone through by myself, so didn't know exactly what to do), I made my way down to the gate I will be leaving out of in about an hour. Even though I haven't left my home state, I can feel the insecurity, but mostly strength from this adventure. I am having to rely on myself fully. I am the only one responsible for finding and getting to my gate on time. For checking in correctly. For not misplacing my carry ons. For everything. I don't know anyone around me, although I have made a few jokes and smiled at several people who have helped me, the virgin traveler.
As I said a tearful good-bye to my parents this morning (tears ALL around, almost my brother also), I realized and fully felt the fact that they aren't going to be a phone call away to get advice from. I have to fully rely on myself to make everyday (and semi-big) decisions for these 3.5 months. Somehow, I am glad though. I love my parents, don't get me wrong, but I am an adult now. 10 years down the road when I am married, I can't be asking my mom for advice all the time. I have to learn to trust my own judgment (and at that point my husbands also but thats a different point). So, although I feel very alone right now, I am ok with it. I have to work at anything for anything to be gained.
p.s. Please don't expect posts this often. I am going to be in Italy....
After fumbling my way through security, (I have never gone through by myself, so didn't know exactly what to do), I made my way down to the gate I will be leaving out of in about an hour. Even though I haven't left my home state, I can feel the insecurity, but mostly strength from this adventure. I am having to rely on myself fully. I am the only one responsible for finding and getting to my gate on time. For checking in correctly. For not misplacing my carry ons. For everything. I don't know anyone around me, although I have made a few jokes and smiled at several people who have helped me, the virgin traveler.
As I said a tearful good-bye to my parents this morning (tears ALL around, almost my brother also), I realized and fully felt the fact that they aren't going to be a phone call away to get advice from. I have to fully rely on myself to make everyday (and semi-big) decisions for these 3.5 months. Somehow, I am glad though. I love my parents, don't get me wrong, but I am an adult now. 10 years down the road when I am married, I can't be asking my mom for advice all the time. I have to learn to trust my own judgment (and at that point my husbands also but thats a different point). So, although I feel very alone right now, I am ok with it. I have to work at anything for anything to be gained.
p.s. Please don't expect posts this often. I am going to be in Italy....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)