Why I love Italia

Today, my Italian class went on a field study instead of having normal class. Yesterday we watched some documentary in class and today, Gitti (la professora) took us to see the places that were in the film. We did some fruit, bread and cheese testing at a local organic spot and some other things but the best part was when she took us to the SEX SHOP!

yes, like it was nothing. no biggie at all. First, she pointed it out to us while we were walking and then said "Let's go in." We all gave each other awkward stares and proceeded to follow her lead. I also learned the word for handcuffs yesterday during the movie- macette- so when we were in the store I saw handcuffs and a whip and asked Gitti if she owns any of these. She said yes, but for her students and I followed with, "yeah right, Gitti you know it's for your marito" (husband). She laughed, made a little facial expression and said "Si." The fact I can have sex conversations with my 51-year-old Italian professor is like a gift from God because I'm passionate about the subject. Then Gitti made us ask the owner of the shop questions in Italian. Everyone was so embarrassed... except for me, of course. Yesterday in class we also learned how to say 'to fuck'- scompare. I swear teachers in America get fired for this kind of stuff.

We went to a music school after and in the street Gitti got hit by a car so she flagged down the driver who rolled down her window and Gitti gave the lady a little piece of her mind. Hilarious. We all kind of just stood there like "is this really happening?" and then Gitti walks back to us with the infamous Italian expression "che pazza!" which means "what a crazy ass lady" - something along those lines. Then these male music students approached our group, asked us what we were doing tonight and Gitti tried to get us to give them our numbers.

This is everything that's wrong yet so RIGHT with this country. I think I must have been Italian in a past life.

And it hit me like a ton of bricks

I'm in SCHOOL.

It's 12:30 on a dreary and cold Tuesday night/Wednesday morning and I am studying for two midterms I have tomorrow. They're two of those classes where you really think the information is interesting but the material is so dense and you start wondering why didn't I start this earlier... oh if I just had one more day! The good news is that I think I did pretty decently on my economics midterm today and even if I didn't my grades don't affect my GPA. I also had a pretty awesome weekend in Madrid, dipping my virgin feet into new experiences, some for the first time and some for the first and last time.

But sometimes bad news accompanies the good and I did get some bad news this weekend. I received word that one of my classmates at Hopkins, Miriam Frankl, was involved in a fatal hit-and-run while crossing the street at one of our apartment complexes just off-campus. I didn't know Miriam but I can't even begin to describe how incredibly sad I was to hear this. It wasn't the kind of sad that makes you sit at home and sulk all day like I'm sure it was for those who knew her well, but the kind of sad that gets you thinking about your own life and the lives of those you do love, and how that could have been me or one of them. If it was me, then I wouldn't have to worry about it because I would just be dead but my parents and the rest of my family would have to deal and it's painful to imagine that situation. It was real for Miriam's mom and dad. I read articles about how her parents flew in from Chicago to be with her when they pulled the plug on life support and my God, how long that flight must have been and what they were thinking in the duration. The thought of going about your normal day, taking a few steps off the sidewalk and BAM! that's it. Miriam had siblings, and that could have been my sister or one of my closest friends from home. I think one of the things that complexes me most was how the driver didn't even have the decency or the dignity to stop and try to do something about the situation he helped to create- that's where my hostility comes in.

The death of my classmate is like dejavu to me. Four years ago, my junior year in high school, another classmate of mine died in a car accident over Spring Break and I had the same sentiments, not knowing Adam well either. Time is the healer of all things and eventually my grief passed but there were always reminders of his death, notably the memorial t-shirts we were allowed to wear in his honor and memory even though I went to a school that required uniforms. Then at graduation his diploma was presented to his family and flowers stood in his would-have-been seat at the ceremony. It's been a long time since I've thought about Adam but little reminders like this bring them back. I also lost an elementary school friend this summer to a pointless, brutal stabbing and even though I hadn't seen Brandon since the last day of 5th grade, news of his death was so painful. When my mom and I went to his service about a week or less before I left for Rome, the boy that stared at me in the picture was the 20 year old version of the 10 year old boy I had grown up with. I wished in that moment that I had made an effort to keep in touch with him throughout the years but it was too late. I know it sounds so cliche' but I think sad times like these really reinforce in us to live life to the fullest because we never know when our time is up. It may be much sooner than we think.

That thing...

For the first time ever I think, I'm feeling a bit homesick...

I've lived out the high of having the opportunity to live in Europe and now that I'm so accustomed to my amazing new life here I am starting to miss all things American. For example, being able to fluently communicate in my native language. Jesus Christ, I MISS ENGLISH! It's not like I don't hear enough English everyday because I go to an American school with American people and take English classes but that little bubble is only contained within the tiny building on Lungotevere Tor di Nona, 7. When I first arrived here, it was okay that I wasn't a fluent Italian speaker... I had only taken 4 semesters of Italian and hadn't spoken it for 4 months before I got here. But now I'm stuck in this internal dry place where being here, I've learned and relearned SO MUCH and it's that dark place where you realize that no matter how much you know, you'll never know it all. Mikki was here last weekend and we were expressing to each other our language woes and insecurities. We finally agreed upon that wise saying (even though we say it differently):

"The more you learn, the more you realize that you don't really know anything"

I think it's also the fact of feeling slightly out of place. Obviously I scream AMERICAN because even freaking tourists come up to me and start speaking to me in English. I've been asked 3 times- once by a fruit vendor, once by a police officer, and once by a typical street lurking creep- if I'm Moroccan and countless times I've been greeted with the beloved phrase "Hola" (ew pet peeve). I can look American, North African, or hispanic in Italy but I can't just look like an ethnic Italian. There are more of them here than you think.

It's a strange feeling, being homesick, because this is the 5th semester I've lived away from home but the first time I'm experiencing it. This may sound bizarre but Baltimore is such a subtle difference to Los Angeles compared with European cities. That's not to say I don't miss good ol' Bmore though, because I do. Every time my mind wanders to school I think about my job (which I love!) at the recycling center and tutoring the elementary school kids at Harriett Lane. I think about crazy times in Charles Commons 810 and all the people and all the drama and how Italy really needs to consider cheeseburgers with fried onions and sour cream. I think about what the weather must be like there because not until yesterday did it drop below 80 here. I really missed the 4 seasons because we don't get that in SoCal either. I thought about all the great times I had last year during intersession, driving around an empty campus in 16 degrees and coming back to my roommate Evalina and watching reruns of Platinum Weddings in the evening, or of my 4th grade tutee LaKayla who always had a comment on my appearance. "Courtney, why you always wear sweats? You look so OLD!" It's funny you don't realize how much some place becomes a part of you until you're not there any more. It's fine in the summer because I'm not SUPPOSED to be in Baltimore then, but now that I keep up with all my friends from school on Facebook, thoughts like these arise.

I don't take for granted Study Abroad, I know it is a luxury opportunity afforded to me for which I am deeply indebted to my parents and I don't take it lightly but I guess what I really mean is I wish I could be in 2 places at once....

Venezia (Venice if you please)

Wrapped up another weekend trip yet again this past Sunday but this one was with 28 other IES study abroad students as the school sponsored it. It was a long trip, but definitely worth it. We got to Venice around 2pm or so on Friday, dropped off our stuff at the hotel right outside of Venice in an area called Mestre and wandered around the "main island" for a few hours. I bought a fabulous mask because I've always wanted one and my friend Shannon and I checked out a lot of small gift shops that carried glass made at one of the neighboring Venetian islands. We met everyone else for dinner at 8 and the food was plentiful and pretty good.

Saturday we had a 7:30 wake-up call and we all ate breakfast at the hotel. We took this ferry to San Marco to see the church. It's pretty much the most touristy part of Venice.

My favorite part of San Marco was the tour we did of the palace of the Dogi. He was basically like the elected president back when Venice was the shit aka the world's wealthiest city (It's still part of Italy's wealthiest region). They turned it into a museum and I got to see a chastity belt from the 15th century in person! Our guide was really dramatic and interactive and it was pretty fun. She told us this funny story about how the husbands of these women would go away for 6 months at a time so about three months before they left, the women would get really fat, get fitted for their chastity belt, lose all the weight while their husbands were gone so they could slip it off, and then get really fat again before they returned so it would be nice and snug. She also gave us a lesson on inheritance during the Venetian empire when the world was cut out for first sons and daughters and how your life was chosen for you. If you wanted to be with the one you loved you became a nun/priest and your lover became the other because priests were allowed inside convents at night with no questions asked so basically convents were safehouses for illegitimate couples in the act! Hilarious this woman was. I also learned some of the ways to identify artists by the repetitive clues they left in their paintings.

We then went to the island of Murano on Saturday to see a demonstration of glass-making and then to Burano where they make lace. I've seen glass be made before in Canada but it's such a cool process I didn't mind seeing it again.

Saturday night was pretty fun because they had a mini-Oktoberfest by our hotel. I met some locals and some Americans which were both entertaining and ate too many crepes.

Sunday we got up super early and waited 40 min for the bus to take us to the port of this canal where we took a 4 hour boat ride. I was too tired, hungover and cold to really enjoy it. The guide was energetic but too loud. We had the boat to ourselves for half of the trip but later, these old French tourists joined us so they had to guide in two languages. After the trip we went to lunch and everyone was exhausted but IES insisted taking us to see another villa, one belonging to some famous Italian architect. After that side trip, we bussed back to Rome which took about 6 or 7 hours including two stops. It was one of the quietest bus rides I've ever been on because everyone was sleeping. They dropped us off at the school which sucked because I had to walk 20 minutes to the subway with all my stuff. I got back to my apartment at about 11pm and hit the sack immediately!