Apr 26

Musing on my host family

Language Barriers, Study Abroad No Comments »

by Joanna Weinstein/Syracuse University in Florence

I awoke Monday morning to a frozen Mac laptop, showing nothing but a flashing blue screen. I thought my life was over. Pathetic, I know. I spent an entire morning in Florence searching for the only Mac store in town to find it was closed and then headed home in misery. I thought nothing in the world could cheer me up. But my host father Salvatore knew the perfect words: “Vuole mangiare il pranzo?”

I watched Salvatore grill chicken breasts with olive oil, cheese and rosemary in seconds, drowning the kitchen in a delicious aroma of herbs and spices. It was a simple dish, but the first bite made me feel a million times better. As I devoured the chicken, like I do to every meal in this country, I began to think how much these people have become my family, and how Florence has become my home.

Over three months ago, I arrived on Via Fiesolana and was introduced to Gina, my host mom, Salvatore, my host father, and Elisabetta, my 13-year-old host sister. My first dinner consisted of very few words. I’m not sure if it was because I couldn’t stop stuffing my face with the endless array of pasta, bread, sausages, meatballs, cheeses, and dessert, or because the only Italian phrases I knew at the time was Ciao and Ti amo.

Now, three months later, I feel I have lived hear all my life. I wake up to Italian bickering in the morning and I laugh. They fight about simple things like the dishes or dinner with such passion it makes you appreciate their loudness. I’ve watched 13-year-old Elisabetta become the annoying, loving, little sister I always wanted, but never had. And I’ve watched myself and my roommate become two additional daughters to the family. I think my favorite moment was my 21st birthday in January. Gina and Salvatore had only known me for about three weeks and still, the house was decorated with streamers and balloons, followed by a huge feast and home made Tiramisu and birthday cake afterwards. Although my friends and family were oceans away, I had another family to sing me ‘happy birthday’, and buy me my first gift in Italia: a Fiorentina hat to wear to all the games.

Despite the generous moments, I think it’s the arguing and the teaching that makes them my family. There was one night I slurped my soup, forgetting my table manners. Gina said, “Joanna, can I be your mother for a second?” I responded yes, a bit confused, as she explained to me not to make noises when I eat. Although a bit embarrassed, I felt more at home than ever. And then there were times I cut my meat wrong as laughs were shared and a whole tutorial on how to cut my steak properly became the topic of conversation at the dinner table. I think it makes me happiest to know I can be the klutz I am around my family and they can just laugh about it, rather than it being an awkward moment.

It’s gotten to the point where I can yell at my host sister to get her to stop playing copy cat with every word I say, or I can give her the biggest hug in the world when I return home from a weekend of traveling. Speaking of returning home, I arrive every weekend to a spotless room, a neatly made bed, and perfectly folded clothes from the last week’s laundry. I tried once to tell Gina that parents in America stop doing this for their children once they are teenagers, but that would have been plain stupid. I figured I’d enjoy the hospitality while I’m here. Besides, she says she loves to clean our rooms—she feels more like a mom that way.

The best part of it all is that my host family hardly knows English. Well, Salvatore has mastered the phrases “No problem,” and “Just a moment please,” while Gina loves saying the words ‘cloudy,’ and “amazing. My host sister is continuing to learn the English language in school. She helps me study for my Italian exams while we quiz her at the dinner table on her English vocabulary. Of course, taking Italian 4 days a week for two hours has helped me know a little more than just Ciao by now. Sometimes, I’ll have a whole conversation with Gina and realize I didn’t use one word of English. Sometimes it’s a success. But when it fails and our conversation is a mix of ‘Englital’ (English and Italian), we just laugh. I think that’s the greatest part of it all. I didn’t need to master Italian and they didn’t need to master English. We just needed to master the language of laughter and love. And as corny as that sounds, it’s absolutely true. I can have the worst day of all, and without explaining in any words, they can understand. I guess that’s the beauty of being human, or more so, of being a family.

And then I realized, whatever happens with my Mac happens. I have a lot more things to appreciate. Besides, having my family in my life is a hell of a lot better than having a laptop anyway.

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Apr 26

Florence: for anyone but art history majors

Finding Florence No Comments »

By Joanna Weinstein/Syracuse University in Florence

De Chirico exhibit at Palazzo Strozzi

After seeing endless signs along every street corner about 5 times a day that read “DE CHIRICO” in bold and a few other names underneath that meant absolutely nothing to me, I decided maybe it would be a good idea to check this exhibit out. Or maybe I went because I kept hearing how amazing this exhibit was from a hand full of people that didn’t fall into the art history major category, but I still went. I strolled into the center one Thursday afternoon behind Piazza Republica past the lovely Odeon theatre to the wonderful Palazzo Strozzi.

I made my way to the ticket booth and was pleasantly surprised that everyone spoke English. Well, scratch that. I wasn’t so surprised. I guess I was just a bit relieved because I always fail to say biglietto with the proper pronunciation, and it comes out sounding like ‘baguette’ and like I’m asking for bread in a museum is just embarrassing. So I suppose it’s nice to have an English speaking staff at such a famous exhibit and exhibition space. On the other hand, it can be frustrating for the student studying here that attempts to sepak the native language, only to be answered by their own language. But I guess that’s tourism.

Anyway, after getting a lovely, little 50 euro cent student discount, I made my way upstairs. Sometimes it really bothers me that we have to pay to see beauty, but again, that’s tourism. I’ll rant about it some other time.

I was with a friend, who fortunately for me, was an art history major. She briefly told me who De Chirico was and why he is famous. “You can see anxiety and fear in his work. You never know where the shadows are coming from, and everything seems like it’s from another world,” she said. She then went on in more detail about what she had studied about these artists, but my mind focused on one thing: how can you see anxiety in art?

Well, not only did I see anxiety, but I felt it. I walked through about five to six different rooms, each filled with paintings that simultaneously horrified me and intrigued me. Aside from the many mannequins, the two that stuck out to me were paintings of Santa Croce and the Leaning Tower of Pisa. De Chirico’s Santa Croce was no other than an eerie, brown building that stood behind a distorted headless statue of Dante, while Pisa was an elaborate almost 3-dimensional leaning tower of dark electric blues and browns. I probably wouldn’t have even recognized Santa Croce if I was not studying here, nor would I have been so fascinated by this version of the Leaning Tower.

I then began reading the text that explained each piece of art and noticed many of these paintings came from the MOMA in New York. A New York native myself, I began to laugh. It took me thousands of miles, an entirely new city on an entirely different continent to see these works when just last year they were about a 30 minutes away from me. But I soon realized that the person I was last year wouldn’t have even cared.

The pamphlet of the exhibit tells us that the choice of Florence as the venue is because it was Florence, in 1909, that the young De Chirico “had his first intuition and metaphysical ‘exeprience’”. Of course at age 21, Florence has not given me any intuition to become an inspiring artist for the 21st century; however, what it has given me is appreciation. I never really cared about art until I came here. I remember walking past the Natural History Museum of Art in the city, checking out the works of Native American Indians for about 5 minutes, seeing some Egyptian pyramid replicas, some walrus statues, and rushing out. Of course I was only about 13 years old, but I had little desire to go back. And yes, I’ll admit, I still have not been to MOMA—pathetic I know. But I think for most of us “not so artsy people,” you come to Florence and see museums or exhibits like De Chirico and can’t help but stare. Sure, maybe you’ll see Jesus Christ’s crucifixion a bit too many times in the Uffizi, but then you realize how much you’ve come to understand once you see an exhibit like this one in Palazzo Strozzi’s , and have a wide range of art to compare it too.

I even found myself thrilled for the first time in my life to see such detailed descriptions (in English!) of the artworks because, for once, I actually cared about why De Chirico painted a brown, dark Santa Croce, or three mannequins with pointy knees and missing elbows to symbolize the enigma of life and the human mind. And I think we care so much, despite our lack of knowledge of the content, because of the history of it. Knowing that you are walking along the same streets as Michelangelo, Ghiberti, Giotto and Da Vinci once did, is simply mind blowing. And then to see a more modern artist like De Chirico have an entire exhibit on metaphysical art, we American students immediately appreciate it because it’s in Florence—so we think, “it must be important.”

It’s as if Florence places you in a time warp for four or five months where all you notice is art, and the beauty of art, even if the art happens to depict a sort of anxiety or fear when you first lay your eyes on it. And that is what makes this exhibit among others different from those in America—the history behind it. It allows you to feel a part of this history because you find yourself in the same town that inspired the artists whose work you are staring at for hours at a time.

But maybe this can have the same effect for me in New York with respect to modern artists, including the ones inspired by New York City. I think maybe now I can appreciate art everywhere, despite its location. The art may lose its touch once I hear honking of horns, rather than vespa engines outside the window, but it’s worth a try. I think I’ll make a trip to the MOMA this summer after all.

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Feb 26

Domani

Study Abroad, Uncategorized 1 Comment »
by Joanna Weinstein, Syracuse University

I remember hearing about Abruzzo’s earthquake last fall while at school and thought, “Thank God it wasn’t Florence,” selfishly caring about my future abroad plans. I read a brief article about the tragedy and moved on with my life. Little did I know that, almost 11 months later, a trip to Abruzzo would be the highlight of my abroad experience.

I awoke at 4:30 am to an obnoxious alarm last Saturday, February 20, almost regretting my decision to go on such a journey: traveling on a tight coach bus, for about five hours south of Firenze. But I sucked it up, and caught the 5:30am coach to Abruzzo.

When we arrived in Abruzzo’s capital, L’Aquila, we were greeted by an organization called Caritas Italiana, one of the biggest volunteer programs, established after the quake. I expected I was going to work with the 15 students that left SUF, we me, that Saturday morning. Instead, I ended up working with numerous Italian students for two straight days, sorting clothing, cleaning kitchens, playing with children, singing at a children’s mass. We even learned some Italian songs and dances from our Italian peers. I built an entire fence for a recently built church in three hours and used a sledgehammer for the first time (had to throw that in here!) in my life. My other peers did similar tasks: some placed wooden panels on church floors, some helped victims move out of their apartments, others painted sidings on a house, and some shoveled out the foundation for new buildings.

During all of this work, a friendship formed between the Italian and American students. After all, most car rides to certain work sites involved seven or eight of us squeezed together in the back of a truck or lime green buggy—it was pretty impossible not to grow close. Some of them are 19, some are 21, and some are 24. I thought they were much older and worked here. But, in reality, they were students, like us, who on their spring break, decided to come here for two weeks instead of going on vacation. They are people with real jobs and families in Rome, Ancora, Perugia or Florence, who basically put their lives on hold to come here and work for free. And they were so happy to do it. And the quake victims were happy, too. They’d come and go all weekend to get pieces of clothing and some food. Then they would stop to talk to us, asking questions about our lives and why we were here.

And as we worked, and talked, the mountains surrounded us. Endless snow topped mountains faded into the horizon, with the sun shining down on us. And some light rain that fell down on here and there. The view was incredible. There was beauty everywhere you looked.

And the closer we got to the people of Abruzzo, the more we learned. Abruzzo may be beautiful, but it’s also a beautiful disaster. On the last day, we visited the center of L’Aquila, where the epicenter hit last year. Two words: ghost town. It’s been almost a year, and rubble remains on the ground, stores are completely shut down, and all there is to see is darkness, all there is to feel is emptiness. People are cooped up in hotels, families are separated, and houses remain destroyed; so destroyed that mattresses are still hanging out from broken windows in the city’s residential areas. The entire cathedral of L’Aquila is crumbling. The roof is gone, the altar is cracked, and the walls are deteriorating. Some say life here will never be the same. Others say there is no life left.

But, I say differently. Caritas Italiana breathes life back into Abruzzo every single day. They have hope, and faith, and more passion for this city than I could’ve ever imagined. And they treated us as equals. They didn’t command us to do work, or yell at us when we didn’t understand. In fact, the language barrier wasn’t a barrier at all. It was as if we all shared the same language for one weekend; it was a language of laughter, of hugs, of tears, and most of all, a language of love.

Throughout the weekend, most of us were anxious to know exactly what we had to do and what time we had to do it. My Italian friend Aurora just laughed. Knowing a bit of English, she told us, “I’m really not sure, we just have to wait and see.” We looked puzzled. “You don’t always need to know when. I don’t know what I’m doing tomorrow or later today,” she said. “You just wait and see. You just live.”

Dove sarò domani che ne sarà dei miei sogni infranti, dei miei piani*

Well, now I can say I truly lived that weekend. I had no idea what I’d be doing next or what this weekend would bring me. And that was the best way to do it. I gave them my hands, and they gave me a new pair of eyes. At 21 years old, I helped the victims of a devastating earthquake, and these victims helped me to learn how much to appreciate my life; not to take any moment for granted, because I could be gone tomorrow. And it wasn’t some cliché lesson either. These people’s lives were destroyed in seconds, and I saw the aftermath with my own eyes. I felt lucky to be alive, let alone spending a semester in Italy.

Non siamo cosi soli a fare castelli in aria*

I left feeling useful, feeling there is some purpose to my life that goes beyond just being a student. From now on, there is no more dark storm in my life; no more negativity. Instead, there is a rainbow that tomorrow brings—the rainbow of Abruzzo that will light up tomorrow, and beyond.

Domani è già qui, domani è già qui*

[Lyrics from “Domani,” from Domani 21 Aprile 2009 - Artisti uniti per l'Abruzzo]

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Feb 26

Super Bowl in Florence

Sports No Comments »
by Matt Pitlik, University of Michigan

When it comes to quintessential Americana, nothing gets close to the Super Bowl: food, football, commercials, beer, television—and more commercials.

Just like any red-blooded American male, I always tune in, regardless of who is playing. I didn’t think I would be able to carry on this all-American tradition while in Italy, but I was mistaken. Finding a bar that shows the game was simple enough.  I was able to saddle up and go to one of the many Florence bars that show American sports. And I must say, there I enjoyed a little slice of home on Super Bowl night, along with thousands of other transplanted Americans across the globe.

I chose the Florence Pub, a plain, yet cozy bar that had all of the necessary ingredients for game-day: multiple television screens and cheap beer on tap.  The crowd consisted of college-aged Americans, probably spending their semester studying abroad, just like me. And except for the lone Colts jersey in the entire place, no one seemed to be a genuine fan of either team, although the bar’s fleur-de-lis motif could have foreshadowed the Saints’ eventual victory.

From the opening notes of “The Star-Spangled Banner,” I almost felt right back at home. Almost. There were two glaring differences from watching the game stateside.

First, the time difference meant kickoff didn’t come until well after midnight, and the game didn’t finish until four in the morning.  This meant there were no casual fans watching.  To stick around for the entire game, one has to be dedicated (or just asleep).

Second, the game was carried on ESPN America, the international affiliate of ESPN.  So, while the game itself was broadcast as it was in the US, those of us at the Florence Pub missed out on the much-hyped commercials that in recent years have become a spectacle almost on par with the game itself.

But these minor inconveniences didn’t seem to bother the group of enthusiastic fans I watched the Super Bowl with.  When Peyton Manning threw the fateful interception just hours from sunrise, the bar erupted with such vigor that you’d think you were just around the corner from Bourbon Street, not the Duomo in Florence. And even though it was difficult to find a true Saints or Colts fan, the meaning wasn’t lost on those in attendance.

“It’s a tradition.  I’ve watched the Super Bowl every year for as long as I can remember,” said Sid, a University of Michigan student.  “It’s cool to be able to still participate even though I’m abroad.”

With the Saints’ victory completed and the party ramping up in New Orleans, the sleepy football fans from the Florence Pub trudged home, ready to wake up in Italy once again.

If you’re interested in watching American sports in Florence, contact these places to see what live (and recorded) sports they broadcast.

Florence Pub

Via del Melarancio 18/r -Tel. 3334273104 or 3290929578

Red Garter

Via de’ Benci, 33r – Tel. 055 234 4904

The Old Stove Pub – Il Porcellino – www.oldstovepub.com

Via Pellicceria 2/R – Tel. 055 284640

The Lion’s Fountain – www.thelionsfountain.com

Borgo degli Albizi, 34r – Tel. 055 234 4412

Finnegan Irish Pub Florence – www.finneganpub.com

Via San Gallo, 123r – Tel. 055 490 794

The Club House - www.theclubhouse.it

Via dei Ginori, 6r – Tel. 055 211427

Kikuya Pub – www.kikuyapub.it

Via dei Benci, 43r – Tel. 055 234 4879

Friend’s Pub – www. thefriendspub.com

Borgo San Jacopo, 51 – Tel. 055 294930

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Jan 28

Alpine getaway

Travel No Comments »
by Noelia de la Cruz, Syracuse University in Florence

Just about anyone visiting Europe, be it the first time or the tenth, is eager to explore all of its many different cities. Yet time is limited. For those in study abroad programs, a semester or even a year may sound like a long stretch, but it’s not enough time to thoroughly explore all that Europe has to offer. One must make choices.

During a long but limited stay, the student or tourist based in Florence, aside from spending time in Tuscany and the many, unique regions of Italy, may make visiting some other countries a priority. England, Spain, France and Germany are among the most popular destinations. Switzerland, however, is often overlooked. Yet after a weekend in Interlaken, Switzerland in early December, I’m happy to inform that it’s not just a haven for skiing and snowboarding aficionados. There are so many things to do there that it’s impossible to get bored.

The Swiss Alps are ideal in the wintertime. Aside from sliding down the beautiful snow-covered mountains, daredevils can also skydive, canyon jump and paraglide. Those who still want to engage in action, but want to pump less adrenaline, can go ice-skating or snow tubing. Several local organizations in Interlaken (among them Outdoor Interlaken) specialize in booking appointments and providing the necessary equipment for sports and activities.

I decided to do something a little different. I rented an ATV (mountain bikes were also available) and cruised for approximately an hour until I reached the nearby village of Lauterbrunnen. The journey was just as visually pleasant as the destination. Fresh-fallen snow covered the trees, houses and streams that line the road. Lauterbrunnen is also accessible by public transportation (bus or railway) and worth the short trip. It’s best known for the Lauterbrunnen Valley, which has 72 waterfalls and an incredible view of the mountains.

From Interlaken, many people go to Kleine Scheidegg, a mountain pass location, with a snowboard or ski poles in hand. Visitors can also rent sleds for 10 euro. Or head to the teepee tent next to the railway station: it has a fun vibe as a result of the friendly people, cool music and good eats. Chow down on a Tipiburger (delicious bacon cheeseburger) or German sausage while drinking a Rugenbräu beer or hot chocolate and talking to people from all over Europe.

Kleine Scheidegg also happens to be the last stop before the connecting train to Jungfraujoch, the highest railway station in Europe. The 3,545 meter (11,333 foot) destination, nicknamed the Top of Europe is popular for its breathtaking view of the Alps as well as its unique features such as the Ice Palace, the Sphinx observation hall, and husky-drawn sleds. To reach the Top, you ride through the inside of a glacier.

However, reaching the Top of Europe is not cheap: the ride alone can cost as much as 120 euro. For the traveler on a tighter budget, the following options are just as satisfying (believe me). Aside from the Lauterbrunnen, Grindelwald, known as the glacier village because of the two glacier mountains surrounding it, is pretty nice, too. There are several souvenir and chocolate shops, but it’s also the perfect place to go with a friend if you just want to pass a few hours at a café without making a long trip. Gimmelwald and Wengen are two other mountain villages easily accessible by railway and ideal for hiking and biking during the spring and summer.

Speaking of which, although Switzerland’s visitor count peaks during the winter season, it doesn’t empty out during the warm months. In fact, it is quite the contrary. The flowers bloom, the grass is green and the tips of the mountains are still frosted with snow, providing a beautiful picturesque landscape. Popular activities to keep in mind during this time of the year are rafting, horseback riding and swimming.

Seen enough mountains? Bern, the capital of Switzerland, is only an hour away. A UNESCO World Heritage Site, the city attracts visitors for its medieval charm, historic buildings and museums.

In following up on these suggestions for day trips, don’t forget to explore Interlaken itself. Visit Lake Brienz (to Interlaken’s east) and Lake Thun (to its west). Take a walk into town. And on the last night, be sure to have a Swiss cheese and chocolate fondue dinner! You can never go wrong with that.

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May 21

Forza Viola!

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by Katie O’Connor, the College of the Holy Cross in Worcester / Centro Linguistico Italiano Dante Alighieri

In Florence, only one sport reigns supreme: calcio, or football, as our English cousins call it. Calcio is not to be confused in any way with ‘football Americano’, but take note of the similarity in the reverence with which both are treated by their fans.

One Sunday, some girlfriends and I headed to an exciting afternoon soccer game at lo stadio, the beautiful Franchi stadium that belongs to local soccer team, la Fiorentina, or la Viola. Interestingly, the team’s purple is just like the school colors of our university in the States, so we felt right at home donning our purple garb for the game.

As we made our way around the large complex, we could hear the players’ names being announced, and I tried to listen for the famous Adrian Mutu, or Alberto Gilardino, my house-sister’s favorite player. Just two years ago, when her mini-soccer league was invited to stand on the field during the 15-minute intervallo (half-time) and take pictures with the players, she stood right next to Gilardino. When she heard I was going to the game but didn’t have any proper Viola sportswear, she gave me her Fiorentina scarf so I could be a true fan. Of course, I was also instructed to give my best to ‘Alberto’!

During the first half, I sized up the stadium. Although the shape appears to be an oval, it was designed to be a ‘D’ for Duce-better known as Mussolini. There are four different fan sections: Curva Fiesole, populated by the impazziti (crazed) fans who stand and call out Fiorentina chants throughout the game; Curva Ferrovia, a more tame version of the Curva Fiesole; the Maratona, our lovely section where the fans remain seated; and the Tribuna, the V.I.P. section.

In between our section and the Curva Ferrovia was a caged section, called the gabbiotto, for the fans of the opposing team. What I didn’t realize at first was that the fans are actually locked into this space because of the incredible violence that often results at soccer matches. The gabbiotto is the only place the opposing team’s fans can sit. If there are too many fans and not enough seats, they are out of luck. Towards the end of the game, the announcer reminded everyone that the doors to the gabbiotto would not be opened until one full hour after the game, when all of the Fiorentina fans would be safely out of the stadium. Only then could the opposing team’s fans leave in peace! Mamma mia! Even in our relatively calm section, I heard so many parolacce (curse words) flying left and right. I got a great vocabulary lesson-one I’d never have in class!

The true action didn’t start until the end of the second half (apparently, both teams were playing unusually poorly). But the famous Mutu didn’t let his Fiorentina fans leave without seeing at least one exciting feat. As the players eased the ball down the field with their agile tricks, Mutu got the ball and made the goal to put Fiorentina ahead 1-0. In my excitement, I found myself on my feet with the surrounding home-team fans, hooting and hollering ‘Bravo!’ and ‘Forza Viola!’ just like a soccer regular.
Overall, it was a great day and another interesting Italian learning experience. It’s a good thing that they don’t put foreigners in with the opposing team’s fans or else my first soccer experience might not have been so pretty. But then again, we’ve been here long enough to know how and when to join in with the Italians. Forza Viola!

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May 11

Days to Departure

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by Meagan Flynn, Fairfield University

The countdown is on: only five short days until I return home to the states. I began my “Days to Departure” countdown at two weeks-a time that still seemed to hold more than enough opportunity to squeeze in every last thing that I still want to do in Florence. Yet it has escaped me quicker than sand falling through an hour glass, and I am left with the reality that I really will be leaving Florence, the city that I have come to think of as home.

This week is finals week for me, so until Wednesday, there’s no hope of me skipping a study session to see anything besides the confining walls of either my apartment or my school’s library. I have to confess, this is partially my own fault. I have put off studying and writing papers to travel, hang out with friends and generally enjoy life in Italy. The pressure is on now, but do I regret my decisions to put off schoolwork? Not in the least. Perhaps I won’t get an A+ in every class, but I’d rather have a slightly lower grade and great experiences than a 4.0 and a lifetime of regrets for not making the most of these four months.

Forgive me for rambling on about school-I have a tendency to get tunnel-vision around finals time. The question on everybody’s mind (especially my own) is, I’m sure, “How has living in Florence affected me?” It sounds simple enough, but it’s quite a loaded question, isn’t it? For my own sake, and for the sake of my dedicated readers (namely, my parents…) I’ll try to take a stab at it.

I come from a town that has a tendency of trapping people, if one lets it. Students graduate, go to the same state colleges, hang out with the same friends and often don’t ultimately end up too far from their roots. I have nothing against this-in fact, I love my hometown. But for as long as I can remember I’ve had a bad case of itchy feet. I knew there was something more out there, and wondered if all that “more” somehow had room for me. When the opportunity to romp around Europe presented itself to me in the form of studying abroad, I jumped at it-but not without hesitation. I had so many doubts that it would be useless to discuss them here. Despite putting on a brave face, and acting like I would be just fine and not miss anyone or anything about my normal life, I was terrified to step out of my comfort zone. That was then, and now I look back at the last few months and can proudly say that I have stepped into the unknown, and conquered my fear of living in new surroundings. Florence, and the rest of Europe, for that matter, has given me a wider world view. The cultural and social experiences that I have had throughout my travels have confirmed my hunch that life wasn’t simply confined to my tiny, personal universe. Having thrown myself into the rest of the world will surely change how I view even the smallest of things in my day-to-day life.

It may sound petty to place this as second on my brief list of ways Florence has changed me, but it is something that cannot be discounted: I never knew that food could taste this good. I am a notorious junk-food connoisseur, but I’m not sure that I will return back to my destructive eating habits at home. Meals here are so fresh and full of…what is the word I’m looking for…integrity, perhaps. People take pride in their food, whether it is served at a restaurant or a kitchen table. At home, it’s all about speed and instant gratification. We eat huge portions because the food is unsatisfying and leaves us grabbing for more. Here, good food and drink isn’t necessarily a luxury, it’s a way of life. This is surely one of the things that I will miss most.

And finally, the people. Every single person that I have come in contact with, even just passing by on the street, has truly had a profound impact upon me. To the friends who have embarked upon this wild journey with me, the professors who did their best to impart knowledge even though we were all preoccupied with planning weekend trips, and program directors who have struggled to make this the best experience possible: I am forever indebted to each of you. The staff of The Florentine has been so much fun to work with! I will miss them. And the people of Florence: your beautiful spirit has shown me how to really live. I have learned not to sweat the small stuff, and to appreciate the simple pleasures of life: holding up traffic to admire a dress in a store window, waiting for hours just to marvel at Michelangelo’s David, or enjoying a three-hour-long dinner for no reason other than the food is great and the company is even better.

I will be returning to the United States a person transformed. How could I not? There is so much beauty and life to soak in from this wonderful city, and after four months, I’ve had my fair share. While I’m anxious to get home, I am so jealous of the future study-abroaders who will have their time to realize everything there is to love about Florence. I know the city will welcome them with open arms, just as it has me. Ciao, Firenze!

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May 07

Stendhal Syndrome

Culture Shock, Study Abroad No Comments »

by Sarah Nugent, California State University

I have been in a fabulous relationship with Florence since I first set foot in the Firenze Peretola airport. No, it had to begin as the tiny airplane descended over the vineyards and olive tree-dotted hills as the sun was breaking through the clouds. I was mesmerized by her beauty before I was even on the ground.

The first few months I suffered the same maladies as the supposed Stendhal Syndrome: dizziness, confusion, and rapid heartbeat. I’ve felt these emotions before, but only when falling in love. Florence had become my new love; she was my new companion. It was exciting and terrifying and thrilling and a huge overwhelming collision of emotions.

Everything was a novelty. The food! The wine! The cute boys! The comical street performers! The architecture! The tiny streets! The gypsies! I was drunk with sensory-overload. I wanted to see, to taste, to touch, and to feel everything that this gorgeous city offered. Everyday was easy to wake up to because I knew something exciting awaited me.

As the months wore on, like any relationship does, Florence had begun to lose its luster. The cobblestones weren’t quaint anymore as they ruined one pair of heels after another, I couldn’t stomach another meal of pasta even if I forced myself, and the “Ciao, bella!” from the boys had become more of an annoyance than a charm. My relationship with Florence was beginning to dwindle and I had to re-find what I found so magical the first semester.

I rediscovered places I had wanted to check out since the beginning and I explored lesser known palazzos and piazzas that weren’t tarnished by tourists. Florence didn’t need to be stirring anymore, what I wanted was someone that I felt comfortable with and allowed me to grow. Of course, Florence and I had arguments like any relationship does, namely miscommunication. I still fiercely loved her though, even with her faults and frustrations.

My year-long affair with Florence ends in June, and I still feel a bit blasé about the situation. I hate to use the term “going on a break”, but I think it needs to happen. I should to go back and finish college, find a job, and most of all to see my family that has waited for my return for 10 long months. That is not to say however, that the past year was difficult. In fact, the past 10 months have without a doubt been the best time of my life. Florence introduced me to people who became my closest friends and allowed me (and at times, forced me) to grow and change and learn how far I can push myself. It has been a priceless gift and I’m confident that we will reunite someday, if only for a short time.

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Apr 27

International Politics in the Middle of the Adriatic Sea

Culture Shock 1 Comment »

By Sarah Nugent, California State University

The best lesson I had in international relations was somewhere between Italy and Croatia on an overnight ferry to Greece. An uneventful dinner with my friends ended up becoming an international soiree with Macedonian wine, local desserts, and friendly Balkan truck drivers. It was a fascinating night, to say the least.

I was enroute to Corfu, Greece on a ferry in the middle of the Adriatic Sea for what expected to be a crazy, fun week. I never would have guessed that ten life-hardened truck drivers from Greece, Albania, Serbia and Croatia would be crazier than American college students! What began as a friendly offer of a very pungent Macedonian wine from a leathery older Greek man, led to a cramped table of an Italian and English conversation about politics and enjoying life.

Greeks, always known for their hospitality, shared their locally-known fig desserts and wine with us as we conversed through the night. The heavy-set truck driver at the end of the table, who happened to be fluent in 5 languages, began to tell us the history of his country Albania, and why there is always conflict in his land. As the man sweated profusely and waved his hands in the air to emphasis his points in perfect English, it occurred to me that the most real, the most intimate lesson on how the world works, was right here at a table with burley, tattooed truck drivers. His friends nodded in agreement as he told us that no one ever wanted war. He stressed the corrupt politicians for causing conflict with his neighboring countries, “Look!” he said, “here I am sharing wine with men I’m supposed to hate!”

The dining room filled with the smoke from their hand-rolled unfiltered cigarettes and they asked us about our thoughts on international conflict, something they were all too familiar with. After living abroad for so long we treaded lightly with our answers, but these men made such heavy topics seem easier to discuss. It was humbling to meet these men who society would deem as unintelligent truck drivers, yet here they were: fluent in more languages than I could even dream of as well as had an intimate knowledge on global affairs.

No book nor lecture hall could provide me with what I had learned that night. These men were straight forward and honest about what they had seen and what they had felt as they lived in conflict-torn areas. There was no analysis; there was no blame placed on a certain group. Tension was eased simply with shared wine and a pat on the back. Our night ended with boisterous Greek dancing in the ship’s lounge, with the old man teaching us Americans how to pentozali with the rest of them.

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Apr 27

Language Tandem Experiences

Culture Shock, Language Barriers, Study Abroad No Comments »

By Sarah Nugent, California State University

It has been hard for me to meet Italians my age here in Florence. Of course, there are the bars and the clubs (the environment isn’t exactly…conversation-friendly), but I wanted to meet someone who had the same passion and interest in sharing ideas, languages, and our different cultures as I did. My school had suggested signing up for Language Tandem, an online social network that allowed fellow Florentine and American students to meet. I set up my profile and was promptly overwhelmed with emails from 30-something Italian men asking me if they could take me out to go, “shoe shopping”. Those emails quickly went into the Delete box, but I didn’t want a few bad apples to ruin my interest in meeting like-minded Florentines. I decided that searching for a Florentine girl would perhaps be a better idea, so I emailed the first person that came up, a Universitá di Firenze student, Roby.

Roby and I met for cappuccini and cornetti and ended up talking for hours. I was surprised that my rough Italian (and her patience!) lasted that long. I finally had someone to ask about funny culture differences, what certain slang words meant, and where the best aperitivo places were in the city. We talked about her wish to study business in Australia some day, and my hope to move back to Europe after college. After studying, living, and hanging out with the same 90 students from my school for 7 months, it was so refreshing to meet someone new who I could talk with!

I’ve invited friends to come along with me to aperitivo with Roby and her friends, and we’ve always stayed until late, laughing and talking in an Italian and English mixture. We taught Roby and her Florentine friend’s games we used to play as kids and they taught us nursery rhymes in Italian. We also told them about typical American foods such as Jell-O, which they had never heard of, and promised to bake a Pizza Cookie with them. It made me realize how ridiculous American products are, but how their novelty is so well-loved abroad.

My language skills have definitely improved since I started with Language Tandem, but I think that what I got most out of it was a friendship. Whether Roby is helping me on questions using the trapassato remoto or I’m editing her English resume for possible jobs abroad, it has been such a blessing to finally find someone in Florence that I can call a friend.

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