Skewl is Kewl

So, school is a thing that I do here. The past few weeks it has been pretty much the only thing I do here (I mean sort of).There are the classes that I take at the University of Bologna (taught totally in Italian by Italian professors, with Italian classmates) and those that I take through my program (taught totally in Italian but with other Americans). Additionally I go to this middle/elementary school twice a week to teach English (once a week to a middle school class and once a week to an elementary school class) which is at least moderately relevant. Let’s’ break these down.

UNIBO

Would you like some history on the oh-so fabulous University of Bologna? Of course you would. It was founded in 1088 and is regarded as one of the very first universities in the world. They call it alma mater studiorum (the nourishing mother of studies) as in the nourishing mother as in the original. They aren’t very humble about their status over here. It was founded by i glossatori, which were basically just renowned scholars who made texts of all their knowledge. Then they decided to share all of this knowledge and thus founded the university (first as a law school). And now, almost 1000 years later, the University of Bologna has something like 23 campuses and thousands and thousands of students.

So the class I am taking at the University of Bologna is called Psicologia della comunicazione (psychology of communication). I thought about taking some sort of Italian literature or art history course because, hey, there isn’t really a better place to take that sort of class than at the oldest university in Italy. However, the university system here is a lot different. They don’t really have “introductory” level classes because you start specializing during high school. By the time you get to university you already have a fairly good foundation in what you choose to study. Therefore, our program directors recommended to us that we take classes in subjects that we are familiar with and are related to what we study at home. In the end I am glad I chose the way I did. While the University of Bologna is not exactly known for it’s psychology department it is interesting and super meta for me to be taking a class on communicating and miscommunicating during a time in my life when that subject is very, very relevant. It’s also interesting because we talk a lot about how so many aspects are culturally determined, so I learn a lot about the modern Italian culture. The professors are also aware that I am American. There are a few others in the class buuuut I sit in the second row everyday so I am usually the one who gets called out to compare Italian to American cultures. One particular occasion occurred a few weeks ago. We do a lot of conversation analyses during class in which we listen to/ read transcriptions of conversations and analyze them. Since a lot of the research for this subject is done in America some of the ones we look at are originally written in English. This day we were looking at one that was originally in English so we had both the English version and the Italian translation up on the screen. A girl from my program also in the class and I started giggling at it  because the English version was written phonetically and the English was terrrrrible so it was giggle-worthy. This caught the professor’s attention so she asked us what was so funny and we told her. Obviously then she decided that the whole class needed an insight into our humor so she asked me to read the English out loud. I tried to make it sound normal but reading it how it was written it came out in the most ridiculous/offensive southern accent. The Italians loved it. I received a round of applause and all hopes of hiding my American-ness in that class flew out the window with my dignity.

Anyways the class is manageable and interesting. I obviously don’t understand everything but I do what I can and follow along pretty well. I even have a few “friends” in the class (aka people who let me look at their notes when I miss something). We were warned ahead of time that the professors all have god complexes and never had any time or interest to hear what any lowly student had to say. In some senses the warnings were just. The whole University is set up a lot differently than Northwestern and all in ways in which things are much harder for students. Professors have office hours like a few hours a month and you have to go online to find out when they will occur because they change all of the time. There is pretty much no form of advising. My professors show up anywhere from 10-45 minutes late to class everyday but the students all show up on time because lots of times there are not enough chairs for all of the kids in the class. The list goes on. Overall, I am very happy to be experiencing this university for a semester, but soooo glad that I don’t actually have to attend/graduate from it.

BCSP

I am also taking two classes through my program. The first is just a required “advanced language and grammar” class in which we (surprise, surprise) learn grammar and do a lot of practicing via reading newspaper articles. It’s fine. I definitely wouldn’t take it if I had known I didn’t really need to. The upside is that the professor is the same one that I had in presession. Did I ever talk about her? Christine Dodd. I love that woman. She is incredibly sweet and sooo full of passion for the Italian language and culture- especially from a Bolognese perspective. She could talk about Bolognese food, wine, films, music or people for hours on end . She also has a very childlike energy and a light, easy laugh.

I am also in an Italian cinema class taught by the director of my program, the one and only Director Ricci, who constantly belongs on the cover of Italian GQ. Italian films never cease to be really weird with unsatisfying endings but the interesting thing is that in order to enjoy them you have to know something about the history and the director- so taking a class on it is the best way to watch Italian films! We focus on films from the ‘40s to the ‘60s, as Italy transitioned from its status right after WWII through its economic boom in the 50s. It is very interesting to see how the films are so reflective of the country at different times and we are becoming quite the experts on this very specific subject. If you want my two cents on the formal aspects Fellini uses to create his character-based narratives, I would be happy to share. Do I pull off being pretentious? I don’t think I do.

Middle/Elementary School

Okay so the other form of school I have experienced in Italy is a glimpse into middle school and elementary school here via my “internship”. I don’t really know what to call it. I go there to teach English to 4^th graders and to 7^th graders (something like that… they organize things differently here) and I just love it. Mainly because they love me. Like, just by default of me being twenty years old and from America. Or so I thought. Last week I arrived a little early to the elementary school class and realized that the reason they always cheer when I walk in the room probably has less to do with me and more to do with the fact that they have English grammar lessons right before I come which they absolutely hate. So since I save them from that I am basically the best person in the world. Instead of doing grammar they get to listen to me ramble about hamburgers and football (AMERICA!). Whatever I think they like me for me too. It’s so funny because they think about America pretty much the same way I think about Italy. They always ask me how beautiful it is and I am like psshhh what you guys have the beautiful country! There is just so much magic in the unknown and unfamiliar I guess. Overall it’s just a bunch of adorableness. The first day of my elementary school gig I had to like introduce myself and they asked me all these questions using words they knew. So basically they asked me if I had any brothers or sisters like 100 times. It was so cute though because they were just asking like “do you have any uncles” and then I would answer and their teacher told them to take notes so they were like trying to write down my whole family tree. It was ridiculous and cute. I am definitely going to be testing them on the middle names of my second cousins next week. The middle schoolers are actually a lot easier because they understand more English so I feel like my lessons are a little more effective. They also have to stand whenever I enter the room, which is legit. They also love asking me about American pop culture and sports teams. I even have a Spurs fan in my middle school class, which is so random! But the boys all gave me their respect when I told them I go to school in Chicago and like the Bulls. One day a girl asked me if I knew who Brad Pitt was and I was like duhhh and she freaked out because she thought I knew Brad Pitt. Like we were friends. I tried to correct her but not that hard. They also ask me at least once a day if I know Gangam style and then ask me to do the dance. Sorry, children. Not this time. I also had my first embarrassing language-barrier moment (okay...maybe not my first) in which I used the Italian word for "to sweep" which apparently has two different meanings, one of which I was completely oblivious to. Middle schoolers are just as immature here as they are in America. Good to know. 

Catching up: calcio and seaside hiking

Heeeeeeey there. Hi. It’s been a while. A really long while. Sorry! I hope I didn’t lose you! These past few weeks have been pretty business as usual with a few adventures thrown in here and there. Ok, I am lying. Honestly, everyday still feels like an adventure to me, and since I am almost three-fourths of the way done with my European sojourn, I don’t think that will change. These past few weeks have included:

Going to Parma (I’ll go ahead and fill you in. There’s not much in Parma. But there is Parmesan cheese. And it’s really really good. SHOCKER. But yeah, it was good enough to be worth the hour-long train ride there and back. I had Parmaggiano style risotto and it was heeeavenly)

Bologna/Inter soccer game

Starting my internship (teaching English to an elementary school class and a middle school class)

Halloween

Cinque terre trip

Florence

Rebecca and Kristin visiting

A few weeks ago we got our program directors to agree to get us tickets to a soccer game at the stadium here in Bologna. It was sweet. Okay what it actually was was really cold and rainy BUT still an experience. The fans are pazzi (crazy). They are constantly yelling (man are they masters of swearing) and waving flags. Most of the things they did I am pretty sure would be illegal in any stadium in the US (like setting off colored smoke bombs and a cannon at random intervals) which was casual. We got tickets in the “rowdy” section but we weren’t really in the thick of the crazy fans (probably safer). I did enjoy the two ladies sitting behind us though. They had some attitude! Constantly shouting “DAI! DAI!” (come on!) and “vafaculo!” (I will let you look that one up) which was appropriately Italian. Oh and the hand gestures! There must be some little conductor in all of their heads because they are all able to  throw their arms in a frustrated manner at the exact same time. It’s beautiful. Anyways I found myself watching the fans more than the actual game and then I stopped being able to feel my toes so we decided to leave a little early. The rest of the fans stayed strong though. Respect.

Halloween was a few days later, but it goes largely unnoticed in Italy. However, most of my friends here are from the University of Wisconsin Madison so they were not about to let Halloween slide. So basically we all dressed up and pretended that we were in America for the night. My friend Emily and I planned on going as US presidents but then our costumes turned out more like The Blues Brothers (which I was fine with. We looked super chill.)

Next day? CINQUE TERRE!!!

We set a leisurely departure time for Cinque Terre of 2:30 pm, giving ourselves plenty of time to recover from our Halloween shenanigans and pack and everything. Right? Nope. Still ended up running to the train station just because we can’t bring our Italian selves to be on time anymore. Because you literally never have to be “on time” for anything here. Except for trains. Not that the trains are reliable. They sometimes leave twenty minutes late, sometimes a little early. You really just never know. So anyways, we sprinted to the train station and then ended up having plenty of time. We just have to keep it exciting! After a long but beautiful train ride through the country side (mountains and rivers and fields, oh my! I was surprisingly reminded of Colorado for a lot of the ride. We passed over some really large rivers, which I was not expecting) we arrived in Cinque Terre without any problems.

Another lie. After three successful transfers we ended up missing our final stop. After a little panic, we only had to wait about 10 minutes for a train going back the other way and instead of being early for our hostel check in we waltzed in right on time. Tutto al posto.

You should know that this trip was marked with little mishaps as mentioned above. Like a lot of them. But it was still one of the best weekends I have had here, if not one of the best I have ever had. Can’t take the good without the bad I guess.

Our hostel was actually more of an apartment meant for like four people that fit 8. Luckily we were seven and we all like each other so it was perfect for us! Dinner was pretty much the only item on the agenda and after wandering around for quite some time we found a lovely place right by the sea and I got a pesto pasta in a region that is known for its pesto. This was a big deal for me. Pesto is pretty much my lifeline- and this was probably the best I have ever had. Sorry, Central Market pesto, you finally met your match. After a little exploring by the marina we went crashed way earlier than our young college-attending selves would like to admit.

Friday morning we woke up bright and early for our full day of hiking. Nothing could stop us!! Except, yep, you guessed it…. We went into the office for the national park and asked for tickets only to be told “all the trails are closed today” and that we couldn’t take any train between cities because someone had died on the train. Or been hit by one. Or the guy who drives the drain died. It was really unclear. Shocked into silence, we left.

And that was the end of our trip.

Not really. Five minutes later Emily and I went back inside and she told us that the more difficult trail was still open, we just had to take the train to the next city to start it.

Okay. Perfect. Totally the opposite of what was said the first time but LET’S GO. So we went. And it was lovely. When we got to the second city we were greeted by the incredibly beautiful sea. Shouldn’t even attempt to describe it.I will just put my pictures (even though they hardly do it justice either). However, in order to complete the image, one must know that the waves were tremendously loud. I don’t know why Neptune was so angry, but boy he was. Oh and also the smell. But I think everyone has their favorite sea smell. So you can just imagine that too. Lots of salt, lots of freshness, and lots of greenery. Okay.

 Our only other mishap of the day was that when we got to the second city we had no idea where the trail started. So we headed to the sea, because obviously why wouldn’t we it’s so pretty. But that trail was blocked. So we wandered some more and found ourselves in the middle of  some gardens/vineyards on the side of a hill with no trail in site. Whoops. After adjusting our aim a little we hiked for the whole rest of the day through vineyards, up mountains, along the coast, through olive groves, over rocks and up more hills. Add in a picnic lunch by the shore, one of the best gelatos I have had in Italy so far (maybe because it was by far the most deserved), countless movie quotes from Jurassic Park and Madagascar (thanks, Lauren), some made up songs, and a meeting with the nicest couple from Neenah, Wisconsin (the same town as two of my friends that we were with, Lauren and Monica. They knew Monica’s dad and uncle. Smalllll world) and you pretty much have our day. As for the evening: teamwork produced salad and pasta carbonara, and cards all night long. I mean, until the girl talk took over and then we passed out.

On Saturday we only had one more city to hike to so we took a train to the fourth city (the one we ended with on Friday) and then hiked to the fifth. The weather was a contradiction to the day before. Friday was abundant sunshine and blossoming flowers whereas Saturday was low-lying fog and mysterious lush greens. Best of both worlds, in my opinion. I really will just let the pictures do the talking. After a much harder hike (probably because we were feeling the one from the day before. Or because it started going uphill and I don’t think it ever stopped) we made it to the final city feeling very accomplished. And it was just in the nick of time because fifteen minutes later it dropped about ten degrees and started raining. So naturally we took this as our cue to go the beach and frolic in the sea. (by the way, mom, I knew it was on the Mediterranean, I just couldn’t remember which subdivision it was. It’s the Ligurian, by the way). This decision may have resulted in shivering all the way home but, as always, #noregrets.

Final mishap of the trip? Totally not our fault. One of our trains was, in typical Italian style, late. So we missed our transfer in La Spezia- so we were stuck there for two hours waiting for the next train. Our wandering around La Spezia caused Lauren to deem it the “Hollywood of Italy”. I think the jury is still out on that one. But after a donut and some more cards in a bar, we finallyyyyy got on our way home. OH I lied there was one more mishap. During one of our transfers we went to the platform that was indicated on the screen. Right at the time of departure a voice came on the overhead speaker and said something that none of us paid attention to. That is, until people near us started running. Luckily Emily looked over and saw like two platforms away “Bologna”- aka our train. Running to catch a train? Become a regular hobby of ours. This time it was validated because we made it with about 30 seconds to spare. Those tricky Italians! Always changing things last minute, keeping things exciting.

Basically, by that night we could not have been happier to be back in Bologna, nor more grateful for an incredible weekend by the sea.

Stay tuned because really soon I am going to post about my classes and my teaching job because I swear I go to class and have a whole lot to read. Like all the time. I just took two tests this week, which I think both went fairly well weeeeeee!

Experience Italia: Zucchini and Butternut Squash Risotto

I am a fan of foodblogs. I mean, who isn’t? If it weren’t for Facebook and other things like, you know, the real world, I would probably spend the majority of my time switching back and forth between Foodgawker and Gojee. I have always thought it would be fun to have one so today I am going to pretend that that is what this is. Maybe I will do this from time to time from now on. I am however missing a crucial, arguably the most important, element of a recipe—pictures. I didn’t really plan this out, okay? I will just have to try to paint with my words. My keystrokes are like the soft strokes of a aptly wielded paintbrush, right? Right? Challenge accepted.

I will start with right now: it's a cloudy but not gloomy kind of night. Chilly but not the cold is not biting. I am inside, but the window is open as always. Out of the window I can hear the people in a neighboring apartment having a jam sesh (All You Need Is Love has been played at least twice) but that is mildly blocked by the Italian version of Shrek 2 playing on the TV. 

I am taking this on to commemorate my most successful Italian cooking adventure to date. Personally, at least. I have certainly witnessed much nobler and grander culinary feats from the Italians in my life, but I am at a genetic disadvantage comparatively. I wasn’t born with olive oil coursing through my veins and fresh Parmesan at my beck and call (just veins full of queso and an expertise in chocolate chip cookies. Boo hoo.).  This feat was a long time coming, too. The word “zucca” (pumpkin) has escaped my lips many, many times in recent weeks. The craving has been out of control. I think I may have mentioned before that I have been in the “fall mood” more than ever before this year. It probably has something to do with the fact that the feelings associated with fall are so homey and, being so far from home, I seek them out now. And I am sure that my pumpkin craving hasn’t faded because it never will be fully satisfied without a Great Harvest pumpkin chocolate chip muffin (YA HEAR ME, SHAWNA?). But I can keep trying, right? I have been experiencing pumpkin doubts in the grocery store. They certainly don’t have the canned/processed pumpkin. That’s out. In the produce section, everything that was labeled zucca always looked a little bit off and Emily and I finally decided that what they labeled as pumpkin was butternut squash. Close enough. Finally a few days ago I decided I would get a little bit of it , combined with all of the other stuff in my cabinet and experiment un po’.  The result? Zucchini and Butternut Squash Risotto. Somewhere in the title I should add “delicious” “creamy” and “heavenly”. I’m feeling really humble about it.

Zucchini and Butternut Squash Risotto

Serves: 2.5 really hungry girls who are accustomed to Italian-sized portions.... so probably 4

Ingredients

Note: the measurements that I used were not only non-exact, they were in metric. I don’t know how to convert grams of risotto to cups exactly so it is an estimate. I would recommend just heating up a little bit extra broth and just know that you might need to use more or less, depending. Just follow the method and taste it a lot when you get close to the end. Just keep adding until you think it is done. Sorry that is not very helpful.

A few tablespoons of butter (maybe 2-3)

Couple cloves of garlic

1 small onion (I used red because that is what I had, but shallots or yellow onion would have probably been better)

2 zucchini

1-1/2 cup roasted butternut squash

2 cups Arborio Rice

Splash (or 2 or 3 splashes) white wine

1-liter vegetable broth (this is how much I heated up, but I didn’t use all of it)

¼-1/2 cup Parmesan cheese, grated

½ tsp nutmeg

Begin by heating the vegetable broth in a pot and bringing it to a boil. Once it boils, turn the heat down and let it simmer throughout the whole process. In a large sauce pan heat about 1 Tbs of butter and then start sautéing the onion, a few minutes. Add the garlic and the zucchini and sauté until the onions become slightly translucent. No recipe tells you to do this but at this point I add a little bit more butter right before I add the rice. Then add the rice and mix around a little bit so that it gets coated in butter. After letting it cook for a minute, deglaze the pan with the wine. I probably used about ¼ cup. Once the wine evaporates, let the rice cook for another minute or two. At this point you are ready to start the process! Add a ladle-full of broth to the pan and stir. When all of the broth is absorbed, add another ladle. You will keep doing this until the risotto is cooked, which will take about 30 minutes. Piano, piano (little by little). It is important to keep stirring the whole time in order to keep the rice from sticking to the bottom of the pan and/or burning. When it is soft and creamy and you are almost done with the broth, mix in the Parmesan and the squash. Keep stirring. Add nutmeg. Keep stirring. Add salf and pepper to taste. Keep adding broth and stirring until the rice is thick, sot and creamy.

I served with a little bit of Parmesan on top, an arugula salad (courtesy of Emily) on the side and a small glass of the wine I cooked with. Meravigliosa.

While I don't have pictures of this dish, I do have some of another pumpkin-related escapade. This craving is not a joke, I am telling you. We actually planned a day trip based solely on the fact that this place is famous for pumpkins. On Friday my I went with my friends Lauren, Raquel and Emily to Mantova- a relatively small city of Bologna that claims to be the origin of Jack-O-Lanterns, which means they must have good pumpkin food, right? Well, yes. This did turn out to be correct. And while we didn't find the street lined with Jack-O-Lanterns like we read about online, the quote "we are INSIDE Halloween right now" did get said many times during our explorations. As for the food, we had a pizza with pumpkin cream, mozzarella, sausage and onions and pumpkin-filled tortellini. The pizza was packed full of delicious contradictions. The light and crunchy crust delightfully contrasted the rich creaminess of the pumpkin and the cheese; the sweetness of the pumpkin went wonderfully against the saltiness of the cheese and the crust. And the sausage wasn't even listed on the menu as a part of the pizza but just added a surprise heartiness that made the whole thing come together like magic. And the tortellini. I don't even know how to describe it. The filling was veeeeery sweet and full of very unique flavors. I have never had anything like it. It was sweet in the woodsy maple-syrup kind of way with a strong presence of what Emily identified as amaretto. I honestly couldn't tell you. But I can say that the pasta was definitely fresh and homemade and the sage-butter sauce on top added the perfect heart-warming richness that I can just close my eyes and imagine whenever I want to. Something that I am currently very grateful for.

We got a little bit excited and ate half of the ravioli before remembering to take a picture of it. Whoops...

I will probably write more on my trip to Mandova soon. For now I will leave you with a fun Italian food fact. You know when you finish a pasta or any other dish that had a sauce on it and then there is extra sauce on the bottom of your plate/bowl so you take a piece of bread and scrape it up and it is so delicious and one of the best parts of the meal/your day? It's the greatest, right? Well the Italians think so too because they have a word for it. Fare scarpetta. It literally translates into "to make little shoes". I don't know why, I guess the bread is like little shoes walking across your plate? Nope? I really don't know. Whatever the reason for the name- I think that we can all agree the action is wonderful.

Home

Preface: this is more of a journal than a regular post. You won’t learn much about my adventures in Italy by reading this post and there are no descriptions of food. Okay maybe I talk about food a little bit. There is also some really bad grammar. Apologies.

“What makes you feel at home?”

I have been thinking about this question a fair amount these past few days. My friend Emily and I went to see the Tallest Man on Earth concert this past week. It was amazing, by the way. It was really simple, just him alone on stage with his guitar, but I could have listened to him for the whole night and beyond. It’s possible that Emily and I both teared up at least once each. Anyways, after the concert Emily and I were talking about how good it felt to go see a show, because it’s something we both love to do in the states, and how music can really transport you to somewhere else. Like when I hear The Gardener by the Tallest Man on Earth I am suddenly in the passenger’s seat of my truck while my sister speeds through the Hill Country on a summer day. Which is, senza dubbio, a place where I feel at home. Maybe the most at home one can feel. So. Well anyways, we were feeling adventurous after the show so we went around to the back of the venue and waited for him. Emily decided that she wanted to ask him her question, “what makes you feel at home”. After he was bombarded by a huge group of Italians trying to communicate with him in very broken but enthusiastic English, we got to talk to him for a good while. He didn’t really have an answer to the question. I think we threw him off guard as two English speaking girls with scarves on their heads (we’re playful and mysterious. What can I say?).  Apparently he likes Wisconsin, playing music and being outdoors. In fact, today was his day off and he was planning on going fly fishing. Just in case you were wondering. I was a TOTAL dork and blurted out something like “well.. I mean, personally, music like yours makes me feel at home” and he just sort of smiled and moved on. Whatever. I met the Tallest Man on Earth and he was awkward in the most lovable way. So, okay. That was his answer, ish. He didn't have much wisdom to share except in his astounding performance. And he was really really really nice and adorable. 

Other than music, here is a list of random things that I instantly make me feel at home and/or nostalgic for home:

Sweating (sorry that’s gross. but it’s also true)

Wool socks

Baseball games

Screen doors (geez can I get any more cliché?)

Warm sheets and drinks (ok only hot chocolate)

When my cheeks hurt because I have been laughing so hard

And food, obviously. But these foods are kind of random too. You really can’t pick these things, it’s just an effect that objects/experiences have on your memory. For me, chicken pot pie and enchiladas.  But specifically the combination raw onions on enchiladas. The brand of pasta that I buy here is called Barilla and on the side of the box it says “dov’e Barilla, ch’e casa”- where there is Barilla, there is home. Pretty cocky of them to say. But hey, who knows? Maybe that sentiment will follow me back to the states and I will associate Barilla pasta with my home here in Italy.

I don’t really know which produces a more “homey” feeling- things that remind me of the specific places I consider to be my homes (Austin and Evanston) or things that are constants no matter where I am. For example, laying in the grass looking up at a blue sky through the leaves of a tree. I guess that is more just a feeling of being “at peace” or something. But maybe those are the same thing? I guess I am lucky and “home” to me is a place of peace and happiness. But I guess one of the big journeys you go on being abroad is getting the peaceful feeling from the more constant things. Things that are always with you, because they are part of you. As you grow and find that independence, you realize that your essence is a little stronger and follows you. Self actualization and all of that stuff. I guess when seemingly everything that is familiar is stripped away, you see what is left within you and that’s what you have to latch onto. But, okay. That is a little dramatic for my specific situation. I was hardly stripped away from “everything familiar”. With my computer and the internet (not to mention the material possessions I have with me), coupled with the fact that Italy is quite a “western” country I clearly can’t say that I was cut off from everything that is familiar. But there are certainly many ways in which life over here is very different than my life back home.

I guess what it boils down to is that to truly get that certain at home feeling stay with you longer than just moments, you have to feel comfortable in the place that you are in. And confident too I suppose. Originally I thought that the feeling of success would make me feel like I was really making a home here. I thought when I finally started to feel like my Italian was really strong would be the milestone. But it’s actually quite the opposite. When you let go of the fear of making mistakes is when I believe you are settled. Whether it’s allowing yourself to not pay attention to where you are walking and get a little lost or making a bigger mistake, letting that guard down is really important for feeling at peace and yourself. You’re not you when you are constantly regulating yourself, which is something that I did in the first days or weeks here.

I am kind of talking myself in circles, but to put it simply, Italy has definitely begun to feel like home. When I was returning from Paris it was weird to say I was going home to Bologna- but that is what it felt like. I came back to my apartment and my bed and my roommates and friends. I guess I will just have to put this city on my list of homes in the world. And I can live with that.That being said, I have learned a lot about the value of communicating your ideas. While my Italian is worlds better than it was when I got here and I finally feel comfortable saying it's good, nothing compares to being a mother tongue. I think it is really exciting to learn and explore a new language, but being able to say anything to anyone in any situation is something I have always taken for granted. I want to know so much more than I am able to about the people I meet, and let them know so much more about myself but just can't because of language limitations. So, I definitely plan on not taking that for granted when I get back to the states. And, unlike some people abroad, there is not an inverse relationship between how much I love Italy and my life back home. The Moore the merrier and all that.  

Video from the concert

(just for updating purposes…. There is not toooo much. Lots of cooking and studying…. I will write more about the classes that I just started soon. Went to an awesome antique market the other day and found lots of presents. Oh and I voted!!! For the first time, yay! Like everyone should! If I can do it from abroad, you can do it from wherever you are!)

Childhood dream completed: becoming Madeline

Bonjour, all! This weekend I had my first out of Italy European experience, travelling to Paris, France to visit my dear, dear friend from Northwestern, Rebecca. It was a pretty quick expedition, as I arrived on Friday afternoon and was gone by Sunday morning. However, what this trip lacked in length, it made up for in general loveliness and fun.

Friday, Oct. 5th

 After a long journey that is not worth much mention (except the headache that is Ryanair is, even if just barely, worth the low prices. It wasn’t all that bad, and all of the Italians I was with were really enjoying themselves. I swear there was either a huge family vacation on this flight or Italians really are just amazingly friendly with strangers).  I landed in France at Beauvais airport, which is about an hour and a half from Paris. My first impression of France? Well Beauvais smelled like ham. Or canned cat food. I get those confused sometimes. And the only restaurants I saw were McDonalds and Buffalo Grill. So…. I wasn’t too heartbroken about boarding the first bus out of there. As we got closer and closer to Paris I got more and more excited. I mean, it’s Paris after all! Everything started to seem charming. I would look out the window and think “oh my gosh, the way those greens of that grass field go together is so French!” Ridiculous. Anyways blah, blah, blah I navigated my way through the streets of Paris and the metro and finally made it to Rebecca and my meeting spot where she greeted me with a huge hug and a perfectly warm pain au chocolat. Knew we were friends for a reason. It was blissfully flaky, soft, melt in your mouth delicious. First dessert of paris was a raging success.

We then wandered around, Rebecca guiding me along as my cynical “there-is-no-way-Paris-is-as-amazing-as-it’s-cracked-up-to-be” attitude quickly melted away and the wonders of the city enchanted me. We walked through a garden (the name of which escapes me now. I do remember the French word for garden though. Jardin. Boom. JARDIN DES TUILERIES. there it is. nailed it.) and made our way to the Lourve where we took touristy pictures sat and chatted/stared into each other’s eyes for a while. 

This is embarrassing, but relevant. 

Then we saw Notre Dame, went to Shakespeare & Co. (English bookstore that I want to live in) and walked some more along the Seine until our hunger got the better of us and we headed back to Rebecca’s apartment. Which, by the way, it just lovely! Full of knick-knacks, flowers, colors and food, it was everything a quaint French apartment should be. After dinner, we met up with two of Rebecca’s friends at some steps overlooking the Eiffel tower. We chatted, took pictures, drank wine and basked in the beauty for a while. Only once were we interrupted by an extremely drunk Czech wanting to go to a “discoclub”. Not sure if it was his level of intoxication or lack of English skills- but whatever it was, it made for a very hilarious conversation. They sent him off in the right direction and we went back to our classy activity of drinking wine straight from the bottle. Totally acceptable. 

                                         

 

We then headed to Urgence (imagine that with a French accents and it is more like urrr-shahnce), a medical-themed bar they had been wanting to go to. Apparently, it is all the rage in Paris to drink out of a baby bottle, and since this place was definitely on the hip side, they followed suit. They had mickey mouse on the side. It was kind of weird and creepy and 100% enjoyable. Finally we headed to a club, the Mix, for “Miss Latina Night’ in which ladiezz were free. Who could pass that up? Apparently no one because when we got there the line was huge and it was going to take waaaay to long to get in. So we walked around looking for another option. “Pizza Pino” ended up being the winner. And, man, what a winner it was! Although we spent 12 euros on a cheese pizza (I tried not to rub in the fact that here in Italy you could get at least two for that price) we  walked away with a sack of twenty free rolls and great memories of our waiter and the “big boss man” flirting with Rebecca.

Saturday, Oct. 6^th.

Super-tourist mode: activated.  My fingers are going crazy. I am going to start using bullets.

•         Luxembourg gardens. Beauuuuutiful! It felt so “fall” the whole time in Paris but there were also some beautiful flowers and greenery. There were some adorable kids racing boats in the pond (French children are, at the same time, perfectly adorable and bat shit crazy) along with many people doing some hilariously serious photo shoots (Rebecca and I included). We topped it off with a Nutella crepe from probably the cutest place I have ever seen. Stop one? Success.

Rebecca getting photobombed by one of those cute French kids

This is what happiness looks like

•          Eiffel tower. Lots of tourists. Lots of French people. Lots of steps. Lots of euros for one water bottle. Lotzzzzz of beauty up top. Stop two? Success.

•          The Morais. This is the Jewish quarter in Paris, the neighborhood which Rebecca claims she would live in if when she moves here on her own. I can see why. It had a very cool vibe to it. There were lots of interesting people and shops to see and, most importantly, falafel. OH MAN FALAFEL. One of the better decisions I have made in my life. It may have been raining, it may have been the messiest thing I have ever eaten, causing us to be pretty much silent for the ten minutes it took for us to gobble it down, but this falafel made everything in life wonderful. The falafel itself was so good- warm, crunchy on the outside and full of comfort on the inside. But THEN they served it in a pita wrap with at least 10 different veggies and sauces and turned something good into something amazing. Thanks, “authentique” falafel. Stop 3? Success.

•          Avenue des Champs-Élysées. It was raining real hard and we only had one umbrella. We decided getting some macaroons and éclairs to go and snuggling up on Rebecca’s couch was a better idea. I stand by this decision.
•  Nuit Blanche. So there was this event in Paris Saturday night called Nuit Blanche, which translates into something about being nocturnal and “white”. Going into it we were unclear about what the event was. Leaving it we were maybe more unclear. Basically, all over the city there were various art installations and places like museums and libraries, etc. were all open all night long and free. Rebecca’s aunt kept describing the event from years past as “intellectual”. All right. We saw some very interesting things including a exhibit on mannequins, vintage Chloe collections, fire breathers and some famous Parisian monument lit up. Oh and a very intense duel between a French man and woman. It was frightening. Basically all we could say afterwards was “well… I guess the French are pretty passionate”. Final stop? Success.

Two hours of sleep later I departed for the airport (thanks again to Rebecca’s aunt for driving me to my bus stop!) and made the 6 hour journey home and crashed.

Merci, Paris. You did me well. Très well. (I learned a lot of French this weekend).

Ciao, ciao! (going back to speaking Italian after a weekend free of it was not easy. And classes start tomorrow. Here goes nothing.)

Urban Hiking

Yesterday my friend Emily and I ventured up to the Sanctuary of the Madonna di San Luca. It's a little over 6 km from my apartment (that's about 4 miles for you non-metric folks. aka me. Google is a wonderful thing). The walk is mostly through the city/neighborhoods but the last mile or mile and a half is uphill through the longest arcade of porticoes in the world. The hike definitely helped me justify the nutella I had for breakfast, but just when I thought it was getting kind of tough, we noticed this adorable couple walking in front of us. 

 If they could do it, so could we, right? Right! We kept going....

And going....

And we reached the top! It was a beautiful view and the most perfect kind of quiet. A totally peaceful, calm, tranquility.

THESE COLORS....THEY'RE REAL

Then this morning I went on run back to the place that we went with our program a few weeks ago. Remember? This one...

In case you were wondering, this is the perfect song to listen to whilst laying on this hill for an hour. Add in some Tallest Man on Earth, Head and the Heart, and Laura Marling and you pretty much get the gist of my playlist. I absolutely love the city, but I think escaping to these gorgeous places for a little bit has become one of my new favorite activities....

EDIT: I forgot to mention this the first time I posted, but on my way down the mountain/hill from my run I saw something that basically made my week. There are a lot of benches along the path and, as I was walking down I noticed something sitting on one. I went to investigate and found (an Italian version of) Big Sur by Jack Kerouac (who, if my roommates are any indication, is very popular here) sitting on the bench, ready to be picked up and read. And so I did, for a few pages. As I went down the hill I found three other Kerouac books, also just sitting on various benches. I absolutely love the idea of leaving a trail books you love for others to find and enjoy. Doing this is definitely going on my currently non-existant bucket list.

Ciao for now!

Mission Accomplished: Pre-Session

I DID IT I SURVIVED MY PRE-SESSION WOOOOO!!!! Well….that is assuming that I didn’t absolutely bomb the final that we had yesterday. And I may have. I mean I think it went fine. We had two different tests today, one on grammar and the book we read and another on culture/history. The grammar was really easy, buuuuut the history wasn’t. It was so detailed! And I was prepared for more “conceptual” questions. Instead it was a lot of straight-up memorization that I hadn’t really done. So yeah. We’ll see. The good news is that it is totally done AND I don't start my University classes until Oct. 9th so I am on vacation for the next week. No complaints here. 

Despite having this final, I was able to have a pretty good weekend. On Friday we finished class and my roommate Raquel and I went back to the apartment ready to study hard-core veg until our plans with our friends later. Our “flatmate” (the term the people in our apartment always use because they all took British English. It’s cute.)  Francesco had other plans. We had totally forgotten that at the beginning of the week he had promised us a surprise on Friday. So it was surprise time! We detoured though. We had been talking about the “seven secrets of Bologna” so on the way to the surprise we wandered around finding most of them. Now, privileged readers, I suppose I will let you in on these secrets. I feel like you should have to say some sort of password. Or prove your worth in some way. Whatever. If you are reading this, you are worthy enough because you obviously have great taste in blogs. And also, they aren’t that mind-blowing. I had a grand time trekking around to all of them, don’t get me wrong, but no secret passages or incantations were involved. Unfortunately. Also, we only made it around to five of the seven secrets so not all will be revealed here.

1.            My favorite. There is one canal that runs under/through the city. It is very small and there are only a few places you can see it from. One of those places is on a street that has a wall with a little window in it. Now, the window blends in with the wall so if it is closed, you have to know where to look for it. National Treasure status, huh? Anyways the view through this window is called “Little Venice” because when you look through it really is pretty easy to imagine that you are in Venice. Lovely!

1.    
2.       Via Independenza is the main shopping/touristy street in the city and, like almost every street, its sidewalks are covered with porticos. At the end of the street, the design of the porticos changes a little and on the ground and above there are a few interesting inscriptions of the three “essentials of live”. It is written in Latin and translates roughly into: bread is life, cannabis is protection and wine is happiness. I have no idea when these inscriptions were made but I like to think around 1000 when the University was founded.
3.       Right off of the main piazza in the city, Piazza Maggiore, is Piazza dell’ Netunno that has a huge statue of Neptune in it. Like many of the men of his day, Neptune is rather well endowed. HOWEVER, the sculptor wanted him to be more-so… but the pope wouldn’t have it. So the sculptor found a little loophole. From a certain angle the position of his hand makes him look very….impressive. Very.
4.       Right off of the piazza is a corridor with these really high volte (a crociera. Totally nailed that on my final!) and if you stand on opposite corners as someone else, face inwards towards the wall and whisper you can hear the other person! It’s pretty cool. I may have screamed when I heard Raquel giggling from across the way.
5.       Walking down Strada Maggiore all of a sudden the portico is replaced by some wooden structure and if you know where to look, you can see an arrow sticking out of the wood. I stood there for five minutes with Francesco pointing and trying to explain where it was. At long last I proclaimed that I saw it. I am only 80% sure that I actually did.

Again, that was it last secret we saw. As for the other two, one involves going up to the top of one of the Due Torri, which Francesco won’t do because there is a superstition that if a student goes up there, they won’t graduate. Decided not to risk it. And the other one is out of the city center, and he has never gone to see it. That was that.

After the secrets, it was finally time for the surprise! All we knew going into it was that it was his “private, calming place in the city that he hasn’t told anyone about”. I was intrigued. We blindly followed this madman to the end of Via Zamboni into a building (I won’t say which one to protect the sanctity of this private place), rode the elevator to the top floor, went out a door, climbed up some fire escape stairs and ran smack into a beautiful view of the city. In such a crowded, loud city it really was absolutely wonderful to find this quiet moment on top of a building. Reminded me of my building climbing friends at Northwestern (Lindsay, this year we HAVE to make it to the top of Silverman!) and I expect to return there if I ever need a moment alone.

Francesco and Raquel. Couple o' goofs

If that wasn’t enough, he decided it was time to finally take us to his favorite gelato in the city. You would think there would be some sort of agreement on this matter, but so far I have heard four differnt places called the “best gelato”. I have only gone to two. What is wrong with me? I honestly don’t know. I’ll work on it! But this one. Oh man. So far it takes my “first place”. Upon Francesco’s selection I tried the Alice (mascarpone with “fused chocoloate”) and it was spectacular.  Creamy and rich but not overly sweet, with the little tang that mascarpone has and honestly I just can’t get over how perfectly creamy it was. So I enjoyed it. But then, mamma mia, I remembered the fused chocolate. They basically just spoon a little chocolate fudge (had a hint of hazelnut? It may have been nutella but it was a little different) in the bottom of the cone so when I got to the bottom it greeted me in all of its semi-frozen, semi-melted, fully chocolate glory. Francesco and Raquel were walking and talking. I had a moment with this gelato. It was beautiful. Slash also probably revolting to all of the people I passed as I tried to keep the chocolate and gelato from dripping whilst still trying to savor the last few bites. Ahhhh.

Then we met our friends Emily, Ashley and Jack in the huge flea market by our apartment to look for some cheap hats. They are all attending Oktoberfest this next weekend (I would say that I am very sad and wish I could join them because that is partially true. They are going to have an amazing time BUT I can’t complain too much because the reason I am not going is that I shall be visiting my dear friend Rebecca in Parigi and CAN’T WAIT) and wanted to make crazy hats to wear there. So we raced through the market as it was closing, found some 5 euro fedoras and then hit the dollar store for decorations. Oh yeah, I made one too. Just didn’t want to feel left out. We’re planning a bar crawl or something that we will wear them to in addition to Oktoberfest. Anyways the night finished out at our apartment. I whipped up some pasta and vegetables, wine was abundant and decorating went well into the night. Our kitchen will probably never be completely glitter free again. What fun!

What is not fun? Waking up on a Saturday at 6:30 am. Which we did. We had a day trip to Urbino on Saturday and our bus left at 7:30. Not amused. But Urbino was pretty nice. The tour that we went on was slightly frustrating and boring but I survived that and the actual city was charm on charm on charm. It was nestled into some hills so we were walking up and down, upside down and backwards through very narrow and uneven streets. It was the setting of a fairytale, basically. My friends and I were highly anticipating the lunch because all of the meals that we have had through the program have been amazing (still thinking about you, lasagna). My expectations were probably a little too high, but it was still really, really good. I casually gave my heart to a spinach pasta dish. Our program directors also keep proving that they have done this once or twice before by constantly leading us to the best view in whatever city we go to. Thus, after lunch we started walking up one of the many hills in Urbino and then realized that it was never going to end. Until it did. And it was beautiful. There was also an abundance of grass, trees and 8-year-old fun to be had on the playground that we found. I am forever grateful for moments that I can spend on monkey bars or a swing.

Sunday was spent studying with one break for a movie in the evening. I went with my friend Emily and flatmate Andrea to see l’Eclisse- a film from the sixties by Antonioni. I have been to one film at this Cineteca previously and I just love it. There is an adorable courtyard in front (yes, Molly, there are fairy lights) and they play old Italian films, modern films and International films (both dubbed and in their original language. I am sure I will break down at some point and feel the need to go see a movie in English. It is just bound to happen). Anyways, l’Eclisse was just as weird as Andrea promised it would be, I suppose very typical of this director. I hope to be quite the Italian cinema expert by the time  leave here. Andrea has helped with that. We celebrated finishing our final yesterday by having Emily come over and make crepes and then we watched Andrea’s favorite film, Le Consequenze dell’Amore. I enjoyed it but I understand why people take classes on this stuff, because I feel like there is a lot I am missing because I don’t know exactly what to look for. Which leads me to the fact that I am starting my real classes next week: Advanced Course in Italian Language and Society, Psychology of Communication, and Cinema of the Italian Economic Miracle. I am esssited and a little scared and will leave you with that cliffhanger!

And let it be noted that I WILL try to do this more often so I don’t write 2000 words each time (this post is precisely 1846 in case you were wondering. Now is it 1855.) Ok CIAO!!!

Bacci!