Daniel and I flew back into the United States a week ago Monday night. I have to admit I was a little overwhelmed at first, and not in a good way. Sorry amici.
My first impression landing in Atlanta was the great expanse of suburbia, consisting of all seemingly new houses, all perfectly lined up. The Atlanta airport was hyperclean, organized and no one was trying to break in line (this feels unnatural now :)). There was an overwhelming variety of stores in the mega-airport, all stocked to capacity with an endless selection of clothing, books, perfume and souvenirs for the kids, etc, etc.
However, how I remember my previous American life, the sterilized environment also was reflected in interactions with others. No one tried to strike up a conversation with us in the airport. No one tried to befriend or engage Daniel. Everyone stood in line in a very orderly fashion, silent, withdrawn, in their own little, preoocupied world. This contrasted sharply with our departure from the Rome airport, which is extremely busy, even more so than Atlanta, believe it or not, in which I had a 5 minute conversation with the emigration officer who was curious why we were in Italy and were we coming back and for how long and she gave me recommendations as to what type of visa to get for Daniel to return. All of this conversation took place even though there was a line of 20 people behind me. CANNOT picture this happening in the United States. This type of interaction would be seen as a serious lack of efficiency.
I know some of my friends see me as a traitor to the United States, as if I'm not patriotic or proud of the US. And, I have to admit, I've never been a flag-carrying citizen. I've always been more curious about other countries, other cultures, other ways of life. As an adolescent, I was head over heels in love with France and all things French. Now, in the middle of my life, it's Italy, it's amazingly beautiful, musical language (when not tainted with the damn, harsh, hard-to-freaking-lose American accent :)), its architecture, art, food, devotion to beauty; I'll stop there! I'm not saying there is nothing redeeming about life in America; for example, I still believe that the economic opportunities and a capacity to improve one's social/financial/educational situation are probably more likely here than anywhere else in the world. However, our wealth and the American single-minded devotion to work comes at a cost in my opinion.
To be more specific and get away from the cliches, I want to describe some of the life changes that Daniel and I made while living in Perugia:
1. Instead of living in a 3300 square foot house in American suburban "Utopia", Daniel and I "survived" in an 80 meter square apartment consisting of 2 bedrooms, 1 bathroom, a combo living room/dining area, and a kitchen that is more like a corridor. But I loved it!!!! When I got back to Virginia, I noticed after a day or so here that I felt irritated and burdened in my house--finally, I put my finger on it--it takes a HELL of a lot of time to care for a huge house, yard, dog, xmas decorations, etc, etc. Our life is much simpler in Italy. I can clean the apartment in an hour, leaving time to: study, cook, read, spend time with Daniel, and to just think (gasp!). Even though I was WAY more busy in Perugia with my course commitments, I just felt calmer and more centered, more clear of my opinions and thoughts on life and future goals, like I had more time to focus on what is important to me--Daniel and learning Italian.
2. I like having personal relationships with all of the shop owners in Italy.
Daniel and I have our own pasticceria (bakery), macelleria (meat shop), supermercato (which is as big as my kitchen in the States but contains more exotic fruits and vegetables than Farm Fresh), and artisan pasta shop. I know people in all of these stores by name and vice versa. They choose to interact with Daniel and give him little treats. This after three months in Italia. After 16 years in Virginia, I'm not sure that I can tell you the name of more than two people in any of the stores I frequent. L'Italia is just a more personal country and individuals are interesting just because they exist. Children are cute and precious just because they are alive. This philosophy is a much better match for me--I have always been a collector of human stories--almost everyone is interesting to me and I could pass hours and hours listening to people, hearing their hurts, disappointments, life events that motivate them, the results of important decisions they have made, etc. In America, almost everyone, or at least in my social circles, is so goal-oriented that long conversations, even between spouses, RARELY takes place. Talking on the telephone or face-to-face at lunch or over coffee is seen as an indulgence at best or an outright, waste of time. It's our f***ing loss (scusami), in my opinion.
3. News flash! Kids can survive without being signed up for Boy Scouts, piano lessons, art classes, swimming camp, etc.! (this was actually news to me :))
At first, I felt guilty because Daniel had to give up violin lessons and Scouts and lacrosse when we moved to Perugia. I felt like a bad mother because, for once in my life, I made my own desires and goals a priority. For my close friends and sister, you all know this was VERY difficult for me. I have spent 23 years putting my children first (which, by the way, I do NOT regret, kids :)). However, I have learned in the past 5 years, losing first Andrew and then Christina, to university and then their own lives, that I have also lost some of my own personal identity by not ever making myself a priority. Daniel has not seemed worse for the wear, except I will admit he experiences an hour or so of boredom here and there and definitely misses his father and dog. However, I have also noticed that, without the pressures of suburban American, Olympic-style mothering, I have probably spent more time just talking to him in the past three months, one on one, than in the previous year. We're not always in the car, rushing to the next activity that will make him smart, athletic, talented, more prepared for college, etc, etc. Perhaps I will be wrong in the end but I enjoy our very simple and calm days. We get up, get dressed, walk the five minutes together to school, then I spend the day with the love of my life (learning Italian), and we pass the afternoon going to the afore-mentioned food stores :), cooking dinner, reading together, to bed, and it starts all over again. Even my hyper-energetic self is not bored :) (because I am literally walking my ass off everywhere we go and because my mind is overstimulated with learning another language in my forties, crazy I know :)) I feel like I spend the day on essential, important activities, not rushing around checking off a never-exhausted, to-do list. It works for me.
4. American consumerism doesn't make me happy.
I know this is the ultimate of cliches, sorry, but I am on a very tight budget in Italia and it really doesn't seem burdensome. In fact, it is somewhat freeing. We have enough money to pay for the apartment and utilities, tons of amazing food, but there is very little left over for clothes, entertainment, dinners out and the afore-mentioned extracurricular activities. I have NO car and no electronic gadgets except for my own laptop. However, another news flash!, you can survive without all the extra shit! My daughter and sister know my weakness for clothes and I do buy some stuff, but much less and I am very careful that is something I will really wear and enjoy. Clothing is MUCH more expensive in Italia; therefore, I don't have the resources to have 10 winter sweaters and an unlimited supply of jeans (someone please alert me if you can find blue jeans for less than 70 Euro in Italia--I sure as hell haven't been able to find them--I waited until I got back to the States to buy $28 jeans that are "hot" on my forty year old ass :)). But, again, the lack of a different mega-mall within every 5-mile radius doesn't feel like a loss.
5. There are some negatives to living in Italy:
--The political situation is totally screwed up. A multi-billionaire, gagillionaire entrepreneur runs the country in a very corrupt way. He owns the 3 major television networks as well as a couple of the major newspapers (hence, controlling the media). Supposedly, he is in cahoots with the various branches of the mafia. He rewrites the laws to protect himself. To be honest, I don't know many of the particulars because I don't spend enough time reading the newspaper and trying to understand all of the complexities--as an "extracomunitaria", I am powerless to do anything about it and, to be honest, I'm more interested in just living.
--The job situation sucks. I would REALLY love to work in Italy after my sojourn finishes in June. I have plenty of education, but so do many, many laureated Italians who are working as babysitters, baristas, colf (household assistants), etc. It is really depressing but, at least, I have the opportunity to return to the States and work if I can't find something. This isn't an option for the 10% of Italians who are unemployed and another large percentage who are working as "precariati" (basically temporary workers with no contract, no guarantee of future employment and no benefits). If anyone knows of a good-paying position for a biology/anatomy lecturer with a Masters in educational psychology, let me know :).
--I have observed some of the social ills that afflict America in the Bel Paese. For example, almost every week, it has shocked me to read in the Perugia newspaper that someone has been murdered, raped, or robbed at gunpoint. I naively thought this was an American phenomen, an obvious, indirect result of the lack of human connections in our impersonal society. However, violence and racism and child abuse also take place in Italia, just perhaps 20-30 years behind the States. Therefore, my adopted country is not all warm-hearted, well-meaning individuals.
In summary, I laugh at myself and my first blog (you were right, Roberta!). I was still in tourist-mode, totally in the stages of first love in October. Now my views are a little more nuanced with some disappointments. But, I still say I would live in Italia any day!
Love you, my friends, Merry Christmas!
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
What's going on with Daniel?
Wow, where to begin?
First of all, to start with the hard stuff--Daniel is picking up Italian but not at the rate I anticipated. Everyone told me before I came, and I reasured myself in the same fashion, that "kids are sponges" and learn foreign languages very easily. However, I have to report after 6 weeks here, that Daniel is speaking only single words here and there and understands almost nothing in sentence form, beyond basic greetings such as "Come stai?" (how are you), "Come ti chiami?" (what is your name) and "Quanti anni hai?" (how old are you). I guess I was naive in my belief that children have a magical, natural assimilation of another language, and admittedly, his ear is better than mine was at the beginning of my study of Italian, but the process is MUCH, MUCH slower than I thought. However, he is happy and not stressed out and begs to stay in Italy--more about that later.
What about the Montessori School? Again, where do I begin? The entire philosophy and mode of instruction is completely different than anything else I have experienced, but I have a limited view since I have not been in his classroom during "school time." However, I can tell you that the Montessori School in Perugia is much more personal and warm than what I have encountered in the United States with my three children. For example, Daniel's class has 13 children (yes, 13, not 23, not 33) and there is a main teacher, Paola who he is VERY attached to and who has a true concern for him, and a couple of other teachers in the classroom at all times. The other classes are larger in the school (my friend Caterina has about 24 in her class, but she says this is because she is very experienced; she is too modest to say that she is a brava professoressa) and the justification for Daniel's small class size is that there is one child with autism in his class. However, Daniel has always had at least one child (or two) with autism in his class in the States as well as a multitude of other problems, including Asperger's Syndrome, Attention Deficit Disorder, Learning Disabilities, etc, etc, etc. and the class size has still been around 24 kids.
In addition, what I love about the Montessori School is that the children move at their own pace in some of the subjects, from what I can gather. For example, there appear to be math modules (groups of material) in which the kids work at their own pace. As I said earlier, Daniel was learning his multiplication facts right at the beginning of the year. But, one problem, is that a lot of the Montessori math involves specific types of teaching which the teacher cannot offer until he becomes competent in Italian; therefore, I have resorted to basically homeschooling him in math until his language skills develop a little further (and all of my friends know how I said I would NEVER homeschool one of my children :)).
In addition, I have always had an unwritten rule that I would NEVER send one of my children to an afterschool program, as no one could possibly care for and love my child as much as me (which I still believe to be true, ferocious mamma that I am). But, I have to eat my words and admit that the afterschool program at the Montessori School isn't bad. I have to leave Daniel there until 5 pm one day a week and 3 pm two other days per week (school only goes from 8:15 am until 1:15 pm which is a real pain in the ass for working parents, but it eliminates a lot of wasted instructional time as lunch, recess, computer, etc, etc are not done during class hours). So, three days per week, Daniel goes to afterschool. One of the directors of the program, Alessandra, was VERY reassuring to me, saying that she would look out for Daniel and help him with his Italian homework. In addition, she secured a babysitter for me one day a week to walk him home from school since I don't get out of literature class until 6 pm on Fridays (and she did this with one day notice, taking it on as her own personal imperative when the Universita' per Stranieri gave us one day notice of what our schedule would be). Daniel actually likes going to the afterschool program as the afternoon goes like this: lunch for about an hour which consists of several courses: pasta served with either a red/other sauce or olive oil, a "secondo" meat dish along with a "contorno" (usually a vegetable, which he refuses, arrrgh!), "pane" (bread) and fruit for dessert. This is followed by gym in which the kids play a very active (sounds somewhat vicious actually in that they try to "kill" each other with a ball, but he loves it!) round of what Daniel thinks is a version of sharks and minnows and then, his least favorite, homework time.
Of course, everything isn't ideal. The building is old, as is everything else in Italy, but the classroom is very large (about twice the size of his in the US) and has large windows and little specific drawers for each child's materials; apparently, self-organization and self-care is a big concept in the Montessori school. "Extras" such as computer, PE and music aren't as developed as in the US; for example, Daniel says they have PE only once a week and it consists of mainly throwing a ball wildly around in the the converted lunchroom. There are no computers (but most of my friends know what I think about the use of computers with small children--basically, that they are useless at best and mind-numbing and creativity-killing in reality). In music, the kids are learning to play a plastic "flauto", which he wouldn't have gotten until fifth grade in the US; however, we aren't able to do violin lessons here, so I guess that's a trade off. The other problem is that he can't really participate in sports here as I have no car and all of the gyms, soccer lessons, etc. are a considerable distance away (about 30 minutes by foot or bus) and I really don't have the time to deal with it with my class schedule. The upside is that we are spending a LOT MORE time together, just he and I, talking, taking long walks in an amazing park with beautiful trails through a wild olive grove at the end of the Mini Metro line, in a more non-frenetic way in the US. Basically, it's me and Daniel in our own little world, outside of my time at the university and his time at school.
So, in the long run, I hope that he will look back on this experience in Perugia as a special time with his mom and an opportunity to experience another culture, way of life, and (what's really important) some ass-kicking food :)!
But, I have to deal with reality, and the school in Virginia quasi-threatened me before I left that Daniel "may not be promoted" to fourth grade if he attends school in Italy for the entire school year. So, what I have decided is to keep him here through spring break in April and then send him home with his father to finish April and May in his school in the States, followed by 13 days of summer school. The school still says that this isn't a guarantee that he will pass third grade but I guess I have confidence in the intelligence of my children and also that there are other things that he is learning in Perugia for which there exists no equivalent in Yorktown, Virginia. It will be excruciatingly difficult for me to remain here for three months without him (as my program won't finish until the end of June), as I have never been away from any of my children for more than thirteen days at a time. But, hopefully, he will survive and will still pass third grade and will always have a sense of Perugia and Italia in his soul.
I would appreciate any comments on this, but please, not in a public forum.
You could send them to me via email at: carlacornettebriscoe@gmail.com.
Thank you.
First of all, to start with the hard stuff--Daniel is picking up Italian but not at the rate I anticipated. Everyone told me before I came, and I reasured myself in the same fashion, that "kids are sponges" and learn foreign languages very easily. However, I have to report after 6 weeks here, that Daniel is speaking only single words here and there and understands almost nothing in sentence form, beyond basic greetings such as "Come stai?" (how are you), "Come ti chiami?" (what is your name) and "Quanti anni hai?" (how old are you). I guess I was naive in my belief that children have a magical, natural assimilation of another language, and admittedly, his ear is better than mine was at the beginning of my study of Italian, but the process is MUCH, MUCH slower than I thought. However, he is happy and not stressed out and begs to stay in Italy--more about that later.
What about the Montessori School? Again, where do I begin? The entire philosophy and mode of instruction is completely different than anything else I have experienced, but I have a limited view since I have not been in his classroom during "school time." However, I can tell you that the Montessori School in Perugia is much more personal and warm than what I have encountered in the United States with my three children. For example, Daniel's class has 13 children (yes, 13, not 23, not 33) and there is a main teacher, Paola who he is VERY attached to and who has a true concern for him, and a couple of other teachers in the classroom at all times. The other classes are larger in the school (my friend Caterina has about 24 in her class, but she says this is because she is very experienced; she is too modest to say that she is a brava professoressa) and the justification for Daniel's small class size is that there is one child with autism in his class. However, Daniel has always had at least one child (or two) with autism in his class in the States as well as a multitude of other problems, including Asperger's Syndrome, Attention Deficit Disorder, Learning Disabilities, etc, etc, etc. and the class size has still been around 24 kids.
In addition, what I love about the Montessori School is that the children move at their own pace in some of the subjects, from what I can gather. For example, there appear to be math modules (groups of material) in which the kids work at their own pace. As I said earlier, Daniel was learning his multiplication facts right at the beginning of the year. But, one problem, is that a lot of the Montessori math involves specific types of teaching which the teacher cannot offer until he becomes competent in Italian; therefore, I have resorted to basically homeschooling him in math until his language skills develop a little further (and all of my friends know how I said I would NEVER homeschool one of my children :)).
In addition, I have always had an unwritten rule that I would NEVER send one of my children to an afterschool program, as no one could possibly care for and love my child as much as me (which I still believe to be true, ferocious mamma that I am). But, I have to eat my words and admit that the afterschool program at the Montessori School isn't bad. I have to leave Daniel there until 5 pm one day a week and 3 pm two other days per week (school only goes from 8:15 am until 1:15 pm which is a real pain in the ass for working parents, but it eliminates a lot of wasted instructional time as lunch, recess, computer, etc, etc are not done during class hours). So, three days per week, Daniel goes to afterschool. One of the directors of the program, Alessandra, was VERY reassuring to me, saying that she would look out for Daniel and help him with his Italian homework. In addition, she secured a babysitter for me one day a week to walk him home from school since I don't get out of literature class until 6 pm on Fridays (and she did this with one day notice, taking it on as her own personal imperative when the Universita' per Stranieri gave us one day notice of what our schedule would be). Daniel actually likes going to the afterschool program as the afternoon goes like this: lunch for about an hour which consists of several courses: pasta served with either a red/other sauce or olive oil, a "secondo" meat dish along with a "contorno" (usually a vegetable, which he refuses, arrrgh!), "pane" (bread) and fruit for dessert. This is followed by gym in which the kids play a very active (sounds somewhat vicious actually in that they try to "kill" each other with a ball, but he loves it!) round of what Daniel thinks is a version of sharks and minnows and then, his least favorite, homework time.
Of course, everything isn't ideal. The building is old, as is everything else in Italy, but the classroom is very large (about twice the size of his in the US) and has large windows and little specific drawers for each child's materials; apparently, self-organization and self-care is a big concept in the Montessori school. "Extras" such as computer, PE and music aren't as developed as in the US; for example, Daniel says they have PE only once a week and it consists of mainly throwing a ball wildly around in the the converted lunchroom. There are no computers (but most of my friends know what I think about the use of computers with small children--basically, that they are useless at best and mind-numbing and creativity-killing in reality). In music, the kids are learning to play a plastic "flauto", which he wouldn't have gotten until fifth grade in the US; however, we aren't able to do violin lessons here, so I guess that's a trade off. The other problem is that he can't really participate in sports here as I have no car and all of the gyms, soccer lessons, etc. are a considerable distance away (about 30 minutes by foot or bus) and I really don't have the time to deal with it with my class schedule. The upside is that we are spending a LOT MORE time together, just he and I, talking, taking long walks in an amazing park with beautiful trails through a wild olive grove at the end of the Mini Metro line, in a more non-frenetic way in the US. Basically, it's me and Daniel in our own little world, outside of my time at the university and his time at school.
So, in the long run, I hope that he will look back on this experience in Perugia as a special time with his mom and an opportunity to experience another culture, way of life, and (what's really important) some ass-kicking food :)!
But, I have to deal with reality, and the school in Virginia quasi-threatened me before I left that Daniel "may not be promoted" to fourth grade if he attends school in Italy for the entire school year. So, what I have decided is to keep him here through spring break in April and then send him home with his father to finish April and May in his school in the States, followed by 13 days of summer school. The school still says that this isn't a guarantee that he will pass third grade but I guess I have confidence in the intelligence of my children and also that there are other things that he is learning in Perugia for which there exists no equivalent in Yorktown, Virginia. It will be excruciatingly difficult for me to remain here for three months without him (as my program won't finish until the end of June), as I have never been away from any of my children for more than thirteen days at a time. But, hopefully, he will survive and will still pass third grade and will always have a sense of Perugia and Italia in his soul.
I would appreciate any comments on this, but please, not in a public forum.
You could send them to me via email at: carlacornettebriscoe@gmail.com.
Thank you.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Is this the turning point?
Ciao a tutti,
I have had a couple of concerned emails from my daughter, my sister and a couple of really good girlfriends (thanks for caring!) about my seeming discouragement on the last post about my disappointment in regards to the slowness of my language acquisition. I'M OKAY, EVERYBODY!
You guys know I am an effusive type, both of the good things and bad things, and I am going to be honest about what is going on. Perhaps I have disillusioned some of you since I'm not writing glowing, touristy pieces about all the traveling Daniel and I are doing or the wonderful, creamy and frothy cappuccini I am drinking every morning, or the spiritual connection I have felt sitting in an incredibly old and beautiful cathedral (although all of those things are happening!), but, those of you who know me know this year in Italy is just as much about figuring out who I am and what I want to do when I grow up as well as enjoying my amazing adopted country. That said . . .
I have had a couple of really positive experiences during the last week that I am hoping is a signal of a turning point in my facility in Italian.
1. Daniel and I spent last weekend hiking in the Cinque Terre (my favorite place in the world!) and were in the train station at La Spezia when a desperate, middle-aged American woman rushed up to the employee in the tabaccheria pleading for help. She had left her passport in the hotel in Vernazza, had a Eurostar train that was leaving for Rome in less than 30 minutes and was returning to the States in 1 1/2 days. She didn't know how to use the Italian pay phone and wasn't sure anyway that she could describe her problem in Italian. Even though our train was leaving in 15 minutes, I took mercy on her (see, I can be nice sometimes :)) and told her that I had a telefonino (cell phone) and would make the call for her. It was actually quite simple, just explaining to the proprietor the situation, giving them the address of the hotel in room and explaining her flight plans. She was tearful, hugged me profusely and called me her "guardian angel" (she was from Texas, perhaps explaining this :)). My Italian friends won't think much of this, and neither did I initially, but on the train home I had time to reflect that there is no way in hell I would have been able to make even such a simple phone call two months ago. In fact, that was a problem I had last spring when I was trying to make arrangements to get Daniel enrolled in the Montessori School here in Perugia. I had to draft a list of questions ahead of time, and when the responses weren't exactly what I expected, I had a difficult time configuring a response spontaneously. After a couple of embarrassingly humiliating phone calls, I gave up. In fact, if I hadn't met Caterina, my friend and teacher at the Montessori School, Daniel would probably not have the opportunity to be there now. Of course, I still make plenty of mistakes on the phone but generally can make a simple call now. This also demonstrates to me how much we rely on facial expression and those amazing Italian gestures for communication; all of that is unavailable on the phone and I am just now able to muddle through it, "muddle" being the key word. However small, it is a measurable step forward for me.
2. Last week I was in "our" pasticceria, purchasing Daniel's usual cannollo al cioccolato for breakfast (yeah, yeah, I know, what happened to the homemade blueberry pancakes with sausage, eggs and fruit I used to make for him in the States? Some things have just had to go here). The usual "pastry lady" had actually been somewhat cold to me up to this point, for what reason I'm not sure; I usually meet and converse with almost anyone quite easily, but she remained formal and on guard, continuing to address me in the "Lei" (formal way) even after 6 weeks of seeing me every morning. This evening was different: when I entered the bakery, she rushed over to me and said, "Aiutami" (help me). It seems that there were two Austrian gentlemen trying to buy tiramisu' for 36 people and she only had one available that would serve 10. She was quite frustrated, trying to explain to them she couldn't whip up another three cakes in 30 minutes (the men obviously had ZERO experience in baking--but don't get me started on fixed sex roles, one of my pet peeves :)), but she had plenty of other "salami" (roll type cakes that are amazingly yummy, filled with fruit, cream and other sinful stuff) to offer them. Obviously, there was a huge communication gap and both parties were getting frustrated but she didn't want to lose such a big sell. I felt very useful, acting as the go-between, figuring out what they wanted and for what purpose in English, then translating it into Italian for the pastry lady, taking her parameters and offerings in Italian, and translating it into English for the Austrian gentlemen. In the end, they bought a shitload of cakes, about 70 Euro worth! For my bilingual and trilingual friends, I'm sure this must seem a pitiful and simple example, but for me, it showed that I am starting to be able to utilize my Italian in a novel, unplanned, out-of-the-textbook situation and, for that, I am proud. She actually hugged me and kissed me when I left, and now, everyday, when Daniel and I go to the pasticceria, she says "Ecco la mia traduttrice" (there's my translator)!
3. People aren't automatically speaking to me in English anymore. The first month here, I got funny looks everytime I tried to interact with someone, even in the grocery store or in a coffee bar. Most people thought I was French, I have no idea why, and started speaking to me in French or English. It is very humbling to think that you "know" a language (again, the difference between textbook learning and having to live somewhere) and having everyone look at you like you are an idiot, deducting 50 points from your Intelligence Quotient. In fact, that is something else I have learned from this experience--while I may be considered "intelligent" in the United States, I cannot expect that same esteem everywhere in the world, in fact, nowhere else. This has been humbling and underlines our American way of assuming superiority, even though I definitely don't consider myself Americo-centric (is that a word?). There is a huge market in Perugia this week, celebrating Day of the Dead, Ogni Morto, and there are vendors from all over Europe selling cool stuff like linens and soaps from Provence (my daughter knows my fetish for fragrance soaps!!!), sausages and cheeses and wines from Sardegna and Puglia, olives of every flavor imaginable from all over Italy, and artwork ranging from really beautiful stuff to the truly tacky (as they say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder but does anyone really want a limegreen, hand-carved wax gnome that smells like cinnamon?!). I haven't really bought anything (okay, I admit to a couple of soaps :)), but it has been fun to talk to the vendors and ask about their products (wine and food are other passions). And, after a few such conversations, I noticed that there is still the look of recognition in their eyes that I am a "straniera" (foreigner) but I guess I am not so awful that they revert to French or English, but humor me by continuing to speak to me in Italian. A small triumph, I admit, but I claim it anyway!
4. Most importantly, I am feeling more relaxed in class now. I had a really bad week two weeks ago, making an ass out of myself in one class when I froze up and answered a question on emigration from Italy in a very simplistic, halted fashion, even stumbling on how to say "in the 1920s, blah, blah, blah" (and the professor had called on me, I think, because she thought I would be reliable in being able to give a half-way intelligible response :)). Then, my phonetics professor has criticized me from day one, picking apart my "accento americano", which, by the way, is true; however, last week she said, "Even our americana has correct pronunciation today". And, this week, I was able to dissect an article on the role of the amygdala and its role in pessimism (much to the boredom of my classmates :)) and how that impedes responding positively in a crisis (really, the article wasn't as complicated as it sounds; it was from a popular magazine, hence, the inaccuracy of the information)--even though I made mistakes, I was able to discuss the shortcomings and oversimplification of the (quasi)neuroscience in the article.
Anyway, perhaps next week will be a different story (and, admittedly, I still struggle when the conversation is about material that I don't have the vocabulary to discuss), but I will savor
the two good weeks that I have had!
Baci e abbraci,
Carla
I have had a couple of concerned emails from my daughter, my sister and a couple of really good girlfriends (thanks for caring!) about my seeming discouragement on the last post about my disappointment in regards to the slowness of my language acquisition. I'M OKAY, EVERYBODY!
You guys know I am an effusive type, both of the good things and bad things, and I am going to be honest about what is going on. Perhaps I have disillusioned some of you since I'm not writing glowing, touristy pieces about all the traveling Daniel and I are doing or the wonderful, creamy and frothy cappuccini I am drinking every morning, or the spiritual connection I have felt sitting in an incredibly old and beautiful cathedral (although all of those things are happening!), but, those of you who know me know this year in Italy is just as much about figuring out who I am and what I want to do when I grow up as well as enjoying my amazing adopted country. That said . . .
I have had a couple of really positive experiences during the last week that I am hoping is a signal of a turning point in my facility in Italian.
1. Daniel and I spent last weekend hiking in the Cinque Terre (my favorite place in the world!) and were in the train station at La Spezia when a desperate, middle-aged American woman rushed up to the employee in the tabaccheria pleading for help. She had left her passport in the hotel in Vernazza, had a Eurostar train that was leaving for Rome in less than 30 minutes and was returning to the States in 1 1/2 days. She didn't know how to use the Italian pay phone and wasn't sure anyway that she could describe her problem in Italian. Even though our train was leaving in 15 minutes, I took mercy on her (see, I can be nice sometimes :)) and told her that I had a telefonino (cell phone) and would make the call for her. It was actually quite simple, just explaining to the proprietor the situation, giving them the address of the hotel in room and explaining her flight plans. She was tearful, hugged me profusely and called me her "guardian angel" (she was from Texas, perhaps explaining this :)). My Italian friends won't think much of this, and neither did I initially, but on the train home I had time to reflect that there is no way in hell I would have been able to make even such a simple phone call two months ago. In fact, that was a problem I had last spring when I was trying to make arrangements to get Daniel enrolled in the Montessori School here in Perugia. I had to draft a list of questions ahead of time, and when the responses weren't exactly what I expected, I had a difficult time configuring a response spontaneously. After a couple of embarrassingly humiliating phone calls, I gave up. In fact, if I hadn't met Caterina, my friend and teacher at the Montessori School, Daniel would probably not have the opportunity to be there now. Of course, I still make plenty of mistakes on the phone but generally can make a simple call now. This also demonstrates to me how much we rely on facial expression and those amazing Italian gestures for communication; all of that is unavailable on the phone and I am just now able to muddle through it, "muddle" being the key word. However small, it is a measurable step forward for me.
2. Last week I was in "our" pasticceria, purchasing Daniel's usual cannollo al cioccolato for breakfast (yeah, yeah, I know, what happened to the homemade blueberry pancakes with sausage, eggs and fruit I used to make for him in the States? Some things have just had to go here). The usual "pastry lady" had actually been somewhat cold to me up to this point, for what reason I'm not sure; I usually meet and converse with almost anyone quite easily, but she remained formal and on guard, continuing to address me in the "Lei" (formal way) even after 6 weeks of seeing me every morning. This evening was different: when I entered the bakery, she rushed over to me and said, "Aiutami" (help me). It seems that there were two Austrian gentlemen trying to buy tiramisu' for 36 people and she only had one available that would serve 10. She was quite frustrated, trying to explain to them she couldn't whip up another three cakes in 30 minutes (the men obviously had ZERO experience in baking--but don't get me started on fixed sex roles, one of my pet peeves :)), but she had plenty of other "salami" (roll type cakes that are amazingly yummy, filled with fruit, cream and other sinful stuff) to offer them. Obviously, there was a huge communication gap and both parties were getting frustrated but she didn't want to lose such a big sell. I felt very useful, acting as the go-between, figuring out what they wanted and for what purpose in English, then translating it into Italian for the pastry lady, taking her parameters and offerings in Italian, and translating it into English for the Austrian gentlemen. In the end, they bought a shitload of cakes, about 70 Euro worth! For my bilingual and trilingual friends, I'm sure this must seem a pitiful and simple example, but for me, it showed that I am starting to be able to utilize my Italian in a novel, unplanned, out-of-the-textbook situation and, for that, I am proud. She actually hugged me and kissed me when I left, and now, everyday, when Daniel and I go to the pasticceria, she says "Ecco la mia traduttrice" (there's my translator)!
3. People aren't automatically speaking to me in English anymore. The first month here, I got funny looks everytime I tried to interact with someone, even in the grocery store or in a coffee bar. Most people thought I was French, I have no idea why, and started speaking to me in French or English. It is very humbling to think that you "know" a language (again, the difference between textbook learning and having to live somewhere) and having everyone look at you like you are an idiot, deducting 50 points from your Intelligence Quotient. In fact, that is something else I have learned from this experience--while I may be considered "intelligent" in the United States, I cannot expect that same esteem everywhere in the world, in fact, nowhere else. This has been humbling and underlines our American way of assuming superiority, even though I definitely don't consider myself Americo-centric (is that a word?). There is a huge market in Perugia this week, celebrating Day of the Dead, Ogni Morto, and there are vendors from all over Europe selling cool stuff like linens and soaps from Provence (my daughter knows my fetish for fragrance soaps!!!), sausages and cheeses and wines from Sardegna and Puglia, olives of every flavor imaginable from all over Italy, and artwork ranging from really beautiful stuff to the truly tacky (as they say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder but does anyone really want a limegreen, hand-carved wax gnome that smells like cinnamon?!). I haven't really bought anything (okay, I admit to a couple of soaps :)), but it has been fun to talk to the vendors and ask about their products (wine and food are other passions). And, after a few such conversations, I noticed that there is still the look of recognition in their eyes that I am a "straniera" (foreigner) but I guess I am not so awful that they revert to French or English, but humor me by continuing to speak to me in Italian. A small triumph, I admit, but I claim it anyway!
4. Most importantly, I am feeling more relaxed in class now. I had a really bad week two weeks ago, making an ass out of myself in one class when I froze up and answered a question on emigration from Italy in a very simplistic, halted fashion, even stumbling on how to say "in the 1920s, blah, blah, blah" (and the professor had called on me, I think, because she thought I would be reliable in being able to give a half-way intelligible response :)). Then, my phonetics professor has criticized me from day one, picking apart my "accento americano", which, by the way, is true; however, last week she said, "Even our americana has correct pronunciation today". And, this week, I was able to dissect an article on the role of the amygdala and its role in pessimism (much to the boredom of my classmates :)) and how that impedes responding positively in a crisis (really, the article wasn't as complicated as it sounds; it was from a popular magazine, hence, the inaccuracy of the information)--even though I made mistakes, I was able to discuss the shortcomings and oversimplification of the (quasi)neuroscience in the article.
Anyway, perhaps next week will be a different story (and, admittedly, I still struggle when the conversation is about material that I don't have the vocabulary to discuss), but I will savor
the two good weeks that I have had!
Baci e abbraci,
Carla
Monday, October 19, 2009
What's it REALLY like to study Italian as a middle aged woman :)
1. I am NEVER going to be the best student in the class.
This I have come to accept after three weeks. What is awesome, but also terrifying, about studying Italian in Italy is that there is no common denominator. That is, everyone comes from all over the world with widely varying experiences in the language. There are many young students (ages 20-25) who have already lived in Italy for months and are living with families in Umbria and have spent much time talking in Italian in an impromptu fashion. Instead, I have been insulated in a classroom in America, studying the tongue I love so much only three hours per week for three years, from a grammar book with fixed rules, from exercises consisting of correct and incorrect responses. This insulated language experience is difficult to overcome. It was somewhat of a slap in the face (and put me justifiably in my place) to find out I am not the top student and will not be this semester.
However, I have changed my attitude and my goal and am now concentrating on that I am
learning in a way not possible in the States; that is, being immersed in this beautiful language
26 hours per week is much more useful and helpful than my previous 3 hour per week experience. I am learning something I am passionate about--that is what is important.
2. There are OTHER "crazy" middle aged people, just like me, which is comforting!
In my class, there are two fifty-ish women from Argentina, a 60-year old attorney from
Connecticut, a thirty-five year aeronatics engineer from Libya, a forty-five year old attorney from Romania and many post-laureate students from all over the European Union.
I always felt weird\strange in the United States, wanting to go back to school in my forties to study Italian. However, I am not as abnormal as I thought. I think it is a result of our
American focus on earning money and following a linear path for all of our life.
At the Universita' per Stranieri, there are several of us "persons of a certain age" who have
a love of the Italian language and want to study it for no other reason than an affinity for
the culture, musicality and bellezza of the Italian tongue. Everything done in life, even if
it is time consuming and requires a pause from your "regular job", doesn't necessitate earning a paycheck. Before I came here, I felt guilty and foolish for wanting to run off to Italy
to study something that I love so much, but chances are, I may never earn a living from it.
But, now, I see that this is perhaps okay (at least, I hope so :)). God or biology has wired each of us to have certain affinities for certain subjects\material and I think I have finally found my true love.
3. People will automatically discount you because you are OLD.
I have found that many of the young students don't want to associate with us "older" students. I even find myself doing it, unfortunately. What is this ageism that is so prevalent across the world? I can see it in the eyes of the twentyish year old girls who don't want to take the time
to form a relationship with you, assuming that you have nothing in common or you aren't any fun to be with, or that you are mentally "slow". However, when I persist, I have found (and a couple of the young girls have discovered) that we actually may have something in common. I have formed a tenative friendship with a 24-year old engineer from Hungary--I think she is astonished that I am as passionate and intense about learning Italian as she is (she loves it for the beauty of the language, but also because she has an Italian ragazzo\boyfriend--good reason!). After bugging her for a couple of weeks for conversation, we have now formed the beginnings of a friendship and she is much more interested in conversing with me after discovering that we have many of the same goals for studying here.
Of course, I am guilty of the same thing. The 60-year old attorney from Connecticut has asked me to meet for coffee a couple of times to practice Italian together--I have turned him down every time because he isn't as competent as me and I am assuming he is "slow" due to his age. However, I have decided to reconsider and treat him as a person instead of an age (I also didn't want to spend any time with Americans because I don't want to fall into the easy trap of speaking English).
Can anyone explain to me this discounting of persons solely due to age? It is "brutta" (ugly) and
I am going to try to be more conscious of it from now on and look at the soul inside, not the saggy skin and wrinkles outside. Again, I guess ageism is wired into us in our biology (from an evolutionary standpoint) because it is more beneficial to copulate with a young person who provides younger, less damaged DNA, which is an advantage for the next generation (see, I will never get rid of my biological way of thinking :)).
4. I am never going to be PERFECT in my Italian; it will never be my mother tongue.
I came here, expecting to be fluent after a few months. Of course I have only been here three
weeks; however, I see that the learning curve is very steep and, as my phonetics professor has
put it so aptly, a "straniero" (foreigner) only has the hope of reaching an ACCEPTABLE pronunciation, not a native pronunciation. At first, this was discouraging news and I thought it was hopeless to consider studying Italian at the graduate level when I return to the States.
However, when I think of where I started six semesters ago, from ABSOLUTE ZERO, I have come a long way and can actually survive here, with a child in tow nevertheless. I can do everything I need to do to live my daily life here. On the other hand, I had hoped of being able to find a job and live in Italy, at least at some point in the future when I am "childless" :): However, due to the economic situation in Italy and the insuperability (is this an English word?) of reaching a native competence in Italian, this is impossible. Again, as in discovery number one, I have changed my expectations. I am cognizant that I can travel in Italy, study in Italy and live here, at least for a few months, on my own, without being part of a tour group--and, for this, I feel a sense of accomplishment and hope to keeping studying Italian for the rest of my life.
5. To end on a more positive note, us OLD FARTS can LEARN A FOREIGN LANGUAGE or whatever else we are interested in!
Dude! I highly recommend this experience for any of my friends who have a burning desire
to study something, whether it is a language (Julie), cooking, music (this is for you Lynne!). biotechnology or horticulture. I really feel that if we listen to our inner whisper, whether it is our soul speaking, or for you strict materialists, only our neurobiology, I think all of us would be much happier and more at peace if we would follow our heart more instead of wasting our whole life making sure our pocketbook is full or that we live in a gigantic house. Of course, we have to earn a living (and I'm still trying to figure out how to turn my passion for Italian into a career :)), but our blood pressure would be lower and our lives on earth would be more coherent if we encouraged ourselves (and our children--at least I have tried to do this) to not always chase the dollar, but pursue your dream with your whole heart. And, for this, I am very happy that I decided to come here. I wouldn't be anywhere else!
Loves, hugs, kisses to everybody! Miss you!
P.S. To all of my middle-age girlfriends a note of hope: the manager of a camera store told me that I had "occhi meravigliosi" (marvelous eyes) reflecting an "anima profondo" (deep soul) yesterday--we're not dead yet, girlfriends! Love you!
This I have come to accept after three weeks. What is awesome, but also terrifying, about studying Italian in Italy is that there is no common denominator. That is, everyone comes from all over the world with widely varying experiences in the language. There are many young students (ages 20-25) who have already lived in Italy for months and are living with families in Umbria and have spent much time talking in Italian in an impromptu fashion. Instead, I have been insulated in a classroom in America, studying the tongue I love so much only three hours per week for three years, from a grammar book with fixed rules, from exercises consisting of correct and incorrect responses. This insulated language experience is difficult to overcome. It was somewhat of a slap in the face (and put me justifiably in my place) to find out I am not the top student and will not be this semester.
However, I have changed my attitude and my goal and am now concentrating on that I am
learning in a way not possible in the States; that is, being immersed in this beautiful language
26 hours per week is much more useful and helpful than my previous 3 hour per week experience. I am learning something I am passionate about--that is what is important.
2. There are OTHER "crazy" middle aged people, just like me, which is comforting!
In my class, there are two fifty-ish women from Argentina, a 60-year old attorney from
Connecticut, a thirty-five year aeronatics engineer from Libya, a forty-five year old attorney from Romania and many post-laureate students from all over the European Union.
I always felt weird\strange in the United States, wanting to go back to school in my forties to study Italian. However, I am not as abnormal as I thought. I think it is a result of our
American focus on earning money and following a linear path for all of our life.
At the Universita' per Stranieri, there are several of us "persons of a certain age" who have
a love of the Italian language and want to study it for no other reason than an affinity for
the culture, musicality and bellezza of the Italian tongue. Everything done in life, even if
it is time consuming and requires a pause from your "regular job", doesn't necessitate earning a paycheck. Before I came here, I felt guilty and foolish for wanting to run off to Italy
to study something that I love so much, but chances are, I may never earn a living from it.
But, now, I see that this is perhaps okay (at least, I hope so :)). God or biology has wired each of us to have certain affinities for certain subjects\material and I think I have finally found my true love.
3. People will automatically discount you because you are OLD.
I have found that many of the young students don't want to associate with us "older" students. I even find myself doing it, unfortunately. What is this ageism that is so prevalent across the world? I can see it in the eyes of the twentyish year old girls who don't want to take the time
to form a relationship with you, assuming that you have nothing in common or you aren't any fun to be with, or that you are mentally "slow". However, when I persist, I have found (and a couple of the young girls have discovered) that we actually may have something in common. I have formed a tenative friendship with a 24-year old engineer from Hungary--I think she is astonished that I am as passionate and intense about learning Italian as she is (she loves it for the beauty of the language, but also because she has an Italian ragazzo\boyfriend--good reason!). After bugging her for a couple of weeks for conversation, we have now formed the beginnings of a friendship and she is much more interested in conversing with me after discovering that we have many of the same goals for studying here.
Of course, I am guilty of the same thing. The 60-year old attorney from Connecticut has asked me to meet for coffee a couple of times to practice Italian together--I have turned him down every time because he isn't as competent as me and I am assuming he is "slow" due to his age. However, I have decided to reconsider and treat him as a person instead of an age (I also didn't want to spend any time with Americans because I don't want to fall into the easy trap of speaking English).
Can anyone explain to me this discounting of persons solely due to age? It is "brutta" (ugly) and
I am going to try to be more conscious of it from now on and look at the soul inside, not the saggy skin and wrinkles outside. Again, I guess ageism is wired into us in our biology (from an evolutionary standpoint) because it is more beneficial to copulate with a young person who provides younger, less damaged DNA, which is an advantage for the next generation (see, I will never get rid of my biological way of thinking :)).
4. I am never going to be PERFECT in my Italian; it will never be my mother tongue.
I came here, expecting to be fluent after a few months. Of course I have only been here three
weeks; however, I see that the learning curve is very steep and, as my phonetics professor has
put it so aptly, a "straniero" (foreigner) only has the hope of reaching an ACCEPTABLE pronunciation, not a native pronunciation. At first, this was discouraging news and I thought it was hopeless to consider studying Italian at the graduate level when I return to the States.
However, when I think of where I started six semesters ago, from ABSOLUTE ZERO, I have come a long way and can actually survive here, with a child in tow nevertheless. I can do everything I need to do to live my daily life here. On the other hand, I had hoped of being able to find a job and live in Italy, at least at some point in the future when I am "childless" :): However, due to the economic situation in Italy and the insuperability (is this an English word?) of reaching a native competence in Italian, this is impossible. Again, as in discovery number one, I have changed my expectations. I am cognizant that I can travel in Italy, study in Italy and live here, at least for a few months, on my own, without being part of a tour group--and, for this, I feel a sense of accomplishment and hope to keeping studying Italian for the rest of my life.
5. To end on a more positive note, us OLD FARTS can LEARN A FOREIGN LANGUAGE or whatever else we are interested in!
Dude! I highly recommend this experience for any of my friends who have a burning desire
to study something, whether it is a language (Julie), cooking, music (this is for you Lynne!). biotechnology or horticulture. I really feel that if we listen to our inner whisper, whether it is our soul speaking, or for you strict materialists, only our neurobiology, I think all of us would be much happier and more at peace if we would follow our heart more instead of wasting our whole life making sure our pocketbook is full or that we live in a gigantic house. Of course, we have to earn a living (and I'm still trying to figure out how to turn my passion for Italian into a career :)), but our blood pressure would be lower and our lives on earth would be more coherent if we encouraged ourselves (and our children--at least I have tried to do this) to not always chase the dollar, but pursue your dream with your whole heart. And, for this, I am very happy that I decided to come here. I wouldn't be anywhere else!
Loves, hugs, kisses to everybody! Miss you!
P.S. To all of my middle-age girlfriends a note of hope: the manager of a camera store told me that I had "occhi meravigliosi" (marvelous eyes) reflecting an "anima profondo" (deep soul) yesterday--we're not dead yet, girlfriends! Love you!
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Saturday, October 3, 2009
10 THINGS I LOVE ABOUT ITALY
After only a week here! I realize many of these are stereotypes, but they have held to be true in my very brief time in Perugia.
1. Complete strangers walk up to you in a bar (coffee shop) and ask if they can meet you for conversation; I really can't see this happening in the US. I was having my morning cappuccino a couple of days ago after dropping Daniel off at school and a French woman who is majoring in International Litigation (cool major!) wanted to know if I would converse with her in English in exchange for conversation in Italian. The isolation and suspicion that surrounds interactions in America is not felt here--I wonder why? Of course, the downside to this is that also random men try to get your cell phone number, find out where you live, etc. and won't take no for an answer unless you leave ;), which is kind of amusing considering I'm in my mid 40's, but also flattering. My point is that people just seem more open and interested in human interaction.
2. Just as many fathers and grandparents as mothers are collecting the children at the end of the day at the Montessori School. In the US, it seems that us moms have to fall into one of two extreme camps: the devoted, stay-at-home, soccer mom who is worn out from being nearly the sole caretaker of the children (which is the camp I have always fallen into) OR the career woman who has children but doesn't really have time for them and has to leave them at daycare a good portion of the day. Here, it has been refreshing to see more flexible arrangements for taking care of the kids and also the grandparents seem very involved. During a beautiful day at the park this week, I saw many "nonni" (grandparents) swinging, hugging, kissing and verbally encouraging and caressing their "nipotini" (grandchildren)--I wish! The interactions between the grandparents and grandchildren are full of love and tenderness: "tesore" (treasure), "amore mio" (my love), and "caro" (dear) are words you hear constantly. Affection is given freely and deeply to children--if it was like this everywhere, we would put the child psychiatrists out of business!
3. Women who unabashedly embrace their feminity. You almost never see women in sweatpants, T-shirts or slouchy clothes; apparently, jeans are worn mainly by students or at least with a sexy top. Breasts, legs, high heels and beauty are on display everywhere unashamedly. Viva la femminilita'!
4. Waking up in the early morning to church bells, opening the humongous windows of my small and simple apartment, and looking out on the orange terracotta rooftops of buildings tumbling down the rolling, blue Umbrian hills. 'Nuff said.
5. Everyone is interested in everyone. I am so accustomed to impersonal dealings in the US. No one really makes extended eye contact unless in an intense conversation with a family member, lover, or close friend. Instead, in Perugia, the "fruttivendolo" (fruit seller) really wants to know why I'm here and makes me promise to bring my child by to meet her, complimenting my Italian saying "brava, brava" even when I know it isn't true :). Also, this carries over to the interactions between the sexes. The usual scenario is a young woman seated on a park bench, facing forward, with a slight pout on her face. Almost falling off the bench and turned completely towards her is a young man, caressing her hair, kissing her at random intervals on the forehead, laughing out loud at the clever things that she says, and grabbing her frequently for a hug. It's both beautiful and painful to watch. American men have a few things to learn, in my opinion :).
6. Shopping for food, preparing food and eating food is seen as a worthwhile art form. I spend about an hour per day shopping, as I have to go to the "salumeria" (meat shop), "pasticceria" (pastry shop), "fruttivendolo", homemade pasta shop and the Coop, the "supermercato" which is about the size of a 711 in the US. Do I really have time go to to school? :) I could spend all day hanging out in the various food shops and talking to the mercants about how to prepare this or that. Moreover, I love that the relationship with food is uncomplicated in Italy. It's okay to be enthusiastic and enjoy a good meal! In America, we all overeat (and we are all overweight), but it is seen as lacking self control to talk about and savor the food as much as the Italians do. Yet, all the women here are universally thin--I can testify that this is because you walk your ass off everywhere (hence, I gain an hour per day by not having to run and lift weights, thus giving me more time to enjoy the food :)). I also love that there isn't one type of Italian food--it's not all spaghetti with ragu' sauce--but each region has its own typical products and sauces and dishes. Daniel and I ate tagliatelle with sugo d'oca (goose) yesterday with veal salad and brushchette con tartufi bianchi (white truffles), yummy and cheap!
7. The multinational and multicultural nature of Europe. At the Montessori School, Daniel is paired with a little girl from Cameroon as they are both new to Italian. She speaks French, he speaks English, and the teacher speaks Italian. A little boy in the class with a British father and an Italian mother happily serves as translator. In my own university, there is a healthy mix of students from China, Taiwan, Japan, Libya, Hungary, the Netherlands, Germany, Norway, Switzerland, Australia, Cameroon and Argentina (this is where we sing "We are the World"). Not many "americani" are here, which is to my benefit. And, plus, it's absolutely adorable to hear my own 8-year old now saying "Mamma mia!" on a regular basis!
8. The overtly expressive nature of the Italian culture. One of my goals is to learn what all the innumerable Italian hand gestures mean. It is pure entertainment to watch an Italian man speaking on a cell phone. He paces back and forth, gesturing wildly with his hands, spreading his arms wide, nearly dropping the phone, just as in a face-to-face conversation. Adorable! But, again, this is a reflection of idea #5 in that one is fully immersed in a conversation here, not checking your Blackberry and email, cooking dinner and changing your status on Facebook while having a phone conversation.
9. The general helpfulness and trusting nature of the Italian people. We have only been here one week but Daniel has been fortunate to have played three times already with the grandson of my "proprietaria" (landlord) who is already my friend. In addition, Daniel has two other playdates already lined up with kids at school--I will need a separate schedule for his social calendar! Moreover, the teachers at the Montessori School have bent over backwards helping me get childcare lined up for my two late days at the University. After only a week, I feel that we have the love and support we are going to need to make it. Love you, Caterina!
10. Okay, I lied--only 9 things. But, from a more practical standpoint, Daniel is doing very well at school. He has formed a bond already with his "brava" teacher, Paola, and is thrilled that the Montessori School is more advanced than his American school. Here, they are already doing all of their work in cursive handwriting and they were just beginning to learn the cursive strokes in Virginia. He is having a ball noticing the differences between American and Italian handwriting. By the way, I have learned quite a few things already from helping him with his homework; perhaps I should go to third grade here! Being a math aficionade, Daniel was excited to find out that the Italian kids already know their multiplication tables, which he hadn't even started in America, so he is working furiously to catch up, loving the challenge. Certainly, the language barrier is a problem, but he is in a class of only 13 children, so the teacher has time to work with him and the little girl from Cameroon.
As for me, my schedule is "massacrante", 24 hours of class per week in Italian! I have had only one full day of class so far, 3 hours of Italian language and 3 hours of contemporary Italian literature. Coming from a science and mathematics background, I was afraid that the literature course would be obtuse and dull to me. However, the literature professor is very engaging, recounting the human stories in the novel we are discussing ("Una vita" da Italo Svevo) with all the dysfunction and heartache included, stuff I love! My courses include: 9 hours per week of Italian language, 3 hours in phonetics and phonology (whatever that is :)), 3 hours in Italian history, 3 hours in the history of Italian art, 3 hours of Italian language excercises, and 2 hours in the language laboratory--whew! If that doesn't make me competent, I give up!
I wish I could say that Daniel and I are spending all of our time learning about art and architecture and history (which truly surrounds us everywhere), but life is spent in the daily business of living, just like anywhere else--going to school, cooking meals and taking care of my son. However, in ITALIA! VIVA IL BEL PAESE!
1. Complete strangers walk up to you in a bar (coffee shop) and ask if they can meet you for conversation; I really can't see this happening in the US. I was having my morning cappuccino a couple of days ago after dropping Daniel off at school and a French woman who is majoring in International Litigation (cool major!) wanted to know if I would converse with her in English in exchange for conversation in Italian. The isolation and suspicion that surrounds interactions in America is not felt here--I wonder why? Of course, the downside to this is that also random men try to get your cell phone number, find out where you live, etc. and won't take no for an answer unless you leave ;), which is kind of amusing considering I'm in my mid 40's, but also flattering. My point is that people just seem more open and interested in human interaction.
2. Just as many fathers and grandparents as mothers are collecting the children at the end of the day at the Montessori School. In the US, it seems that us moms have to fall into one of two extreme camps: the devoted, stay-at-home, soccer mom who is worn out from being nearly the sole caretaker of the children (which is the camp I have always fallen into) OR the career woman who has children but doesn't really have time for them and has to leave them at daycare a good portion of the day. Here, it has been refreshing to see more flexible arrangements for taking care of the kids and also the grandparents seem very involved. During a beautiful day at the park this week, I saw many "nonni" (grandparents) swinging, hugging, kissing and verbally encouraging and caressing their "nipotini" (grandchildren)--I wish! The interactions between the grandparents and grandchildren are full of love and tenderness: "tesore" (treasure), "amore mio" (my love), and "caro" (dear) are words you hear constantly. Affection is given freely and deeply to children--if it was like this everywhere, we would put the child psychiatrists out of business!
3. Women who unabashedly embrace their feminity. You almost never see women in sweatpants, T-shirts or slouchy clothes; apparently, jeans are worn mainly by students or at least with a sexy top. Breasts, legs, high heels and beauty are on display everywhere unashamedly. Viva la femminilita'!
4. Waking up in the early morning to church bells, opening the humongous windows of my small and simple apartment, and looking out on the orange terracotta rooftops of buildings tumbling down the rolling, blue Umbrian hills. 'Nuff said.
5. Everyone is interested in everyone. I am so accustomed to impersonal dealings in the US. No one really makes extended eye contact unless in an intense conversation with a family member, lover, or close friend. Instead, in Perugia, the "fruttivendolo" (fruit seller) really wants to know why I'm here and makes me promise to bring my child by to meet her, complimenting my Italian saying "brava, brava" even when I know it isn't true :). Also, this carries over to the interactions between the sexes. The usual scenario is a young woman seated on a park bench, facing forward, with a slight pout on her face. Almost falling off the bench and turned completely towards her is a young man, caressing her hair, kissing her at random intervals on the forehead, laughing out loud at the clever things that she says, and grabbing her frequently for a hug. It's both beautiful and painful to watch. American men have a few things to learn, in my opinion :).
6. Shopping for food, preparing food and eating food is seen as a worthwhile art form. I spend about an hour per day shopping, as I have to go to the "salumeria" (meat shop), "pasticceria" (pastry shop), "fruttivendolo", homemade pasta shop and the Coop, the "supermercato" which is about the size of a 711 in the US. Do I really have time go to to school? :) I could spend all day hanging out in the various food shops and talking to the mercants about how to prepare this or that. Moreover, I love that the relationship with food is uncomplicated in Italy. It's okay to be enthusiastic and enjoy a good meal! In America, we all overeat (and we are all overweight), but it is seen as lacking self control to talk about and savor the food as much as the Italians do. Yet, all the women here are universally thin--I can testify that this is because you walk your ass off everywhere (hence, I gain an hour per day by not having to run and lift weights, thus giving me more time to enjoy the food :)). I also love that there isn't one type of Italian food--it's not all spaghetti with ragu' sauce--but each region has its own typical products and sauces and dishes. Daniel and I ate tagliatelle with sugo d'oca (goose) yesterday with veal salad and brushchette con tartufi bianchi (white truffles), yummy and cheap!
7. The multinational and multicultural nature of Europe. At the Montessori School, Daniel is paired with a little girl from Cameroon as they are both new to Italian. She speaks French, he speaks English, and the teacher speaks Italian. A little boy in the class with a British father and an Italian mother happily serves as translator. In my own university, there is a healthy mix of students from China, Taiwan, Japan, Libya, Hungary, the Netherlands, Germany, Norway, Switzerland, Australia, Cameroon and Argentina (this is where we sing "We are the World"). Not many "americani" are here, which is to my benefit. And, plus, it's absolutely adorable to hear my own 8-year old now saying "Mamma mia!" on a regular basis!
8. The overtly expressive nature of the Italian culture. One of my goals is to learn what all the innumerable Italian hand gestures mean. It is pure entertainment to watch an Italian man speaking on a cell phone. He paces back and forth, gesturing wildly with his hands, spreading his arms wide, nearly dropping the phone, just as in a face-to-face conversation. Adorable! But, again, this is a reflection of idea #5 in that one is fully immersed in a conversation here, not checking your Blackberry and email, cooking dinner and changing your status on Facebook while having a phone conversation.
9. The general helpfulness and trusting nature of the Italian people. We have only been here one week but Daniel has been fortunate to have played three times already with the grandson of my "proprietaria" (landlord) who is already my friend. In addition, Daniel has two other playdates already lined up with kids at school--I will need a separate schedule for his social calendar! Moreover, the teachers at the Montessori School have bent over backwards helping me get childcare lined up for my two late days at the University. After only a week, I feel that we have the love and support we are going to need to make it. Love you, Caterina!
10. Okay, I lied--only 9 things. But, from a more practical standpoint, Daniel is doing very well at school. He has formed a bond already with his "brava" teacher, Paola, and is thrilled that the Montessori School is more advanced than his American school. Here, they are already doing all of their work in cursive handwriting and they were just beginning to learn the cursive strokes in Virginia. He is having a ball noticing the differences between American and Italian handwriting. By the way, I have learned quite a few things already from helping him with his homework; perhaps I should go to third grade here! Being a math aficionade, Daniel was excited to find out that the Italian kids already know their multiplication tables, which he hadn't even started in America, so he is working furiously to catch up, loving the challenge. Certainly, the language barrier is a problem, but he is in a class of only 13 children, so the teacher has time to work with him and the little girl from Cameroon.
As for me, my schedule is "massacrante", 24 hours of class per week in Italian! I have had only one full day of class so far, 3 hours of Italian language and 3 hours of contemporary Italian literature. Coming from a science and mathematics background, I was afraid that the literature course would be obtuse and dull to me. However, the literature professor is very engaging, recounting the human stories in the novel we are discussing ("Una vita" da Italo Svevo) with all the dysfunction and heartache included, stuff I love! My courses include: 9 hours per week of Italian language, 3 hours in phonetics and phonology (whatever that is :)), 3 hours in Italian history, 3 hours in the history of Italian art, 3 hours of Italian language excercises, and 2 hours in the language laboratory--whew! If that doesn't make me competent, I give up!
I wish I could say that Daniel and I are spending all of our time learning about art and architecture and history (which truly surrounds us everywhere), but life is spent in the daily business of living, just like anywhere else--going to school, cooking meals and taking care of my son. However, in ITALIA! VIVA IL BEL PAESE!
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Insanity or courage? Even I don't know :)
Hi Friends/Ciao Cari Amici:
I am starting this blog in order to keep my friends and family posted as to my adventures and education this year in Perugia, Italia. Most of you already are (exhaustively, sorry :)) familiar of my plans to relocate from Yorktown, Virginia to Perugia, Italia (in the green heart "cuore verde") of my fantasy land, Italia. I have thought, prayed, and beat myself up wondering if this is a smart decision or a temporary, middle-aged loss of insanity, but I've come to the conclusion that we can't be assured of all outcomes in our life and, if we don't ever take risks, we lose out on a lot, perhaps including our heart.
My love of Romance languages began in high school. I had never been abroad my entire childhood, much less out of the state of Kentucky; I was raised by single mom who worked as an English teacher and we didn't have funds for luxuries such as travel (perhaps explaining my addiction now!). Anyway, I studied French for four years in high school and was enthralled with the language, food, songs, culture and, basically, just a different way of being. The French seemed so sophisticated and exotic to me and I adored the way the French language sounded on my tongue; of course, it helped I had a very gifted, ultra cool French teacher. I won the French award every year in high school (representing my passion, not superior ability) and continued to study "francais" in college. However, when serious decisions came about, such as deciding what to major in, I decided French wasn't a safe option. I couldn't see any possibilities besides being a French teacher and that didn't sound like a lucrative, glamorous, safe career. I wasn't a materialistic youth and I'm definitely not now (I have other sins, but greed isn't one of them :)) , but when one grows up without a sense of financial and familial safety, it makes a permanent mark on your psyche that a safety net is essential. So, instead, I decided to major in biology and go to medical school at the University of Kentucky. I ended up not working as a physician because I wanted to raise and influence my own children (a story for another day). I have taught college-level biology and anatomy courses at the local community college for the last sixteen years and really do enjoy biology and believe that I am a good teacher (at least my students say so). However, my passion for languages was reawakened three years ago (with either dangerous or wonderful consequences, depending on your point of view :)).
Five years ago, I took my first trip abroad with my daughter, Christina, to Paris and Normandy. She was studying French in high school, so France was a logical choice. My language ability was all but gone (one day, have Christina tell you the hilarious story of my extremely broken attempts to inform a hotelier in Mont Saint Michel that we would be late checking in!), but the food, baroque churches, metropolitan people and the French language itself reawakened something in me: a passion and desire I had suppressed and forgotten about. I vowed from that point on to go abroad once a year, finances permitting. In 2006, I led a student trip to Japan (since I could go for free!), followed by another student trip to Italy and Greece in 2007. In preparation for this trip, I attempted to enroll in Greek at a local university since most of the voyage would be spent in Greece; but, as fate/Providence would have it, all of the courses were full, so I "had to" take Italian as a back-up. My purposes were totally utilitarian: to be able to say "hello", "goodbye", "where's the toilet", "how much does this touristy, probably made in China, leather handbag cost?" and to be able to take care of my students if the need arose.
Oh my gosh: the first week in my Italian class was a shock! The professor started the first day speaking only in Italian and my ear was not accustomed to these sounds. I attempted to write everything down that she said, phonetically, since most of it wasn't on the board. I remember being full of despair at the end of the first week, thinking OMG, I'm too old to do this now. But I decided to stick it out for another week and make a verdict at that point. Something happened during that second week: we went over very basic things, such as how to say the alphabet and how to pronounce the hard and soft C and G, etc. Out of pure doggedness and determination, I thought, "I am going to try to do this." My initial objective was to take only two semesters of Italian in preparation for the trip, and then go back to my "normal life" of teaching biology and taking care of three children.
But, then, I went to Italy.
It wasn't that the trip was particularly wonderful--we stayed in real shit-holes for hotels with five students to a room and literally ate Americanized spaghetti every night (remember, this trip was for students and economy was the number one objective of this particular educational tour group). However, something happened to me on that trip. I felt independent and powerful and sexy even (sorry, kids!), being able to speak the native language in a foreign country and be (relatively) self sufficient on a different continent. Of course, now I laugh at the mistakes I made. For example, I had only learned how to say "vorrei" (I would like) when ordering a meal--the first day in Rome, I ordered for each person at the table, saying "vorrei" blah, blah, blah--I guess I was hungry enough to eat 15 plates of food! Something that charmed me about Italy was/is a cultural difference there compared to France: the Italians didn't smirk superiorly at me when I tried to use my baby-speak Italian and they didn't automatically start speaking to me in English--they actually seemed to appreciate the effort and were laid back, kind, accepting and encouraging. After a week in Rome, Capri and Pompeii (other reasons I am an Italiophile!), there was no turning back for me. I enrolled in the next two courses at Christopher Newport University, followed by a year at William and Mary (hugs and kisses and much love to all of my Italian professors--you have changed my life!!!!).
Anyway, at the end of this academic year, I had some decisions to make. I had taken all of the Italian courses that were available in my area. I could attempt to drive an hour and a half each way to class next year at VCU; I could give up on my Italian dream; or I could jump into the frying pan and move to Italy and pursue an unfulfilled dream from my youth. For those of you who know me well, this is uncharacteristic of me; I am usually a very logical person and don't do rash, crazy things. However, the thought of NOT going to Italy drove me crazy. I knew this would be a permanent regret--it's like finding true love but not doing anything about it.
So, I'm withdrawing my eight-year old, precious son Daniel from school, putting him in a Montessori school, and enrolling myself at the Universita' per Stranieri (University for Foreigners) in Perugia, Italia.
Here goes . . . Wish me luck (please!).
I am starting this blog in order to keep my friends and family posted as to my adventures and education this year in Perugia, Italia. Most of you already are (exhaustively, sorry :)) familiar of my plans to relocate from Yorktown, Virginia to Perugia, Italia (in the green heart "cuore verde") of my fantasy land, Italia. I have thought, prayed, and beat myself up wondering if this is a smart decision or a temporary, middle-aged loss of insanity, but I've come to the conclusion that we can't be assured of all outcomes in our life and, if we don't ever take risks, we lose out on a lot, perhaps including our heart.
My love of Romance languages began in high school. I had never been abroad my entire childhood, much less out of the state of Kentucky; I was raised by single mom who worked as an English teacher and we didn't have funds for luxuries such as travel (perhaps explaining my addiction now!). Anyway, I studied French for four years in high school and was enthralled with the language, food, songs, culture and, basically, just a different way of being. The French seemed so sophisticated and exotic to me and I adored the way the French language sounded on my tongue; of course, it helped I had a very gifted, ultra cool French teacher. I won the French award every year in high school (representing my passion, not superior ability) and continued to study "francais" in college. However, when serious decisions came about, such as deciding what to major in, I decided French wasn't a safe option. I couldn't see any possibilities besides being a French teacher and that didn't sound like a lucrative, glamorous, safe career. I wasn't a materialistic youth and I'm definitely not now (I have other sins, but greed isn't one of them :)) , but when one grows up without a sense of financial and familial safety, it makes a permanent mark on your psyche that a safety net is essential. So, instead, I decided to major in biology and go to medical school at the University of Kentucky. I ended up not working as a physician because I wanted to raise and influence my own children (a story for another day). I have taught college-level biology and anatomy courses at the local community college for the last sixteen years and really do enjoy biology and believe that I am a good teacher (at least my students say so). However, my passion for languages was reawakened three years ago (with either dangerous or wonderful consequences, depending on your point of view :)).
Five years ago, I took my first trip abroad with my daughter, Christina, to Paris and Normandy. She was studying French in high school, so France was a logical choice. My language ability was all but gone (one day, have Christina tell you the hilarious story of my extremely broken attempts to inform a hotelier in Mont Saint Michel that we would be late checking in!), but the food, baroque churches, metropolitan people and the French language itself reawakened something in me: a passion and desire I had suppressed and forgotten about. I vowed from that point on to go abroad once a year, finances permitting. In 2006, I led a student trip to Japan (since I could go for free!), followed by another student trip to Italy and Greece in 2007. In preparation for this trip, I attempted to enroll in Greek at a local university since most of the voyage would be spent in Greece; but, as fate/Providence would have it, all of the courses were full, so I "had to" take Italian as a back-up. My purposes were totally utilitarian: to be able to say "hello", "goodbye", "where's the toilet", "how much does this touristy, probably made in China, leather handbag cost?" and to be able to take care of my students if the need arose.
Oh my gosh: the first week in my Italian class was a shock! The professor started the first day speaking only in Italian and my ear was not accustomed to these sounds. I attempted to write everything down that she said, phonetically, since most of it wasn't on the board. I remember being full of despair at the end of the first week, thinking OMG, I'm too old to do this now. But I decided to stick it out for another week and make a verdict at that point. Something happened during that second week: we went over very basic things, such as how to say the alphabet and how to pronounce the hard and soft C and G, etc. Out of pure doggedness and determination, I thought, "I am going to try to do this." My initial objective was to take only two semesters of Italian in preparation for the trip, and then go back to my "normal life" of teaching biology and taking care of three children.
But, then, I went to Italy.
It wasn't that the trip was particularly wonderful--we stayed in real shit-holes for hotels with five students to a room and literally ate Americanized spaghetti every night (remember, this trip was for students and economy was the number one objective of this particular educational tour group). However, something happened to me on that trip. I felt independent and powerful and sexy even (sorry, kids!), being able to speak the native language in a foreign country and be (relatively) self sufficient on a different continent. Of course, now I laugh at the mistakes I made. For example, I had only learned how to say "vorrei" (I would like) when ordering a meal--the first day in Rome, I ordered for each person at the table, saying "vorrei" blah, blah, blah--I guess I was hungry enough to eat 15 plates of food! Something that charmed me about Italy was/is a cultural difference there compared to France: the Italians didn't smirk superiorly at me when I tried to use my baby-speak Italian and they didn't automatically start speaking to me in English--they actually seemed to appreciate the effort and were laid back, kind, accepting and encouraging. After a week in Rome, Capri and Pompeii (other reasons I am an Italiophile!), there was no turning back for me. I enrolled in the next two courses at Christopher Newport University, followed by a year at William and Mary (hugs and kisses and much love to all of my Italian professors--you have changed my life!!!!).
Anyway, at the end of this academic year, I had some decisions to make. I had taken all of the Italian courses that were available in my area. I could attempt to drive an hour and a half each way to class next year at VCU; I could give up on my Italian dream; or I could jump into the frying pan and move to Italy and pursue an unfulfilled dream from my youth. For those of you who know me well, this is uncharacteristic of me; I am usually a very logical person and don't do rash, crazy things. However, the thought of NOT going to Italy drove me crazy. I knew this would be a permanent regret--it's like finding true love but not doing anything about it.
So, I'm withdrawing my eight-year old, precious son Daniel from school, putting him in a Montessori school, and enrolling myself at the Universita' per Stranieri (University for Foreigners) in Perugia, Italia.
Here goes . . . Wish me luck (please!).
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