Cultural Transitions, Studying, and the Month to Come

Tuscania from afar

Buona sera!

Or, considering you may be on the other side of the world reading this right now… Buongiorno!

… Buona pomeriggio, Buona notte… Buona…

Okay… you get my point.

So, I’m looking down at my calendar and I’m realizing it’s already the 27^th of September, which happens to be two days shy of a month since I arrived here.  It’s kinda crazy because on one hand it seemed to fly by while on the other it seems crazy that I still have three more months.  It’s funny though because on a good day three months is a great thing but on a bad day, three months seems like its an eternity.

On my first orientation day for study abroad back at Boise State we had received pamphlets outlying stages of cultural adaptation, which at the time seemed totally bogus.  It starts out with the honeymoon stage, proceeding next to the conflict stage, and ends at the critical stage.  I don’t really want to go into detail explaining each one because I feel like the names are pretty self-explanatory.

The Church of Saint Peter

But I guess my point here is that when I first moved here everything was so new and exciting, I really had no time to feel stressed, frustrated, homesick, or overwhelmed.  But now that things are all set in stone, I really have run into the routine of the day to day.  I’ve gotten used to the atmosphere and new environment that little things can more easily get to me when at first they were easily ignored because everything was just so great, new, and exciting.  After all, how can you get upset during a honeymoon?  It just simply wasn’t possible.  And it’s not like it’s a complete drop from honeymoon to conflict either, I guess it’s just an opportunity to examine things through a different lens. 

But it’s also come with its moments too.  I can’t say it isn’t difficult to spend 3 hours with a family and kids that only speak Italian then being taken directly to Italian class for another 2 hours.  It’s really overwhelming at times and sometimes all I can do is come home and crash.  Luckily though, with Dalila, a warm, cozy bed, and a bowl of honey nut cheerios, I can’t complain that much.

Well, now that I’ve brought up my schedule, I feel like I should probably mention the study part of my study abroad experience.  Yes, I’m in Italy, so it can easily be mistaken for a vacation, but I do take classes at the University, Universita Degli Studi Della Tuscia, which is luckily just a 15-minute walk from my apartment.  My class schedule currently consists of Elementary Italian, which I have Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday evening for 2 hours, Italian Hill Towns: history through urban form, Tuesday morning for 3 hours, and Italian Cuisine and the Mediterranean Diet, Thursday morning for 3 hours.  The hill towns class has already had some great field trips to some historical cities around Viterbo, one which was actually today.  We visited Tuscania, one of the oldest towns in Italy with a scenic view of the surrounding valleys and rolling hills.

The beautiful scenery that can be viewed form Tuscania

I am also excited for my cooking class which we have a workshop for tomorrow at a local culinary school.  I have to wake up bright and early tomorrow morning to catch a bus with the class to get there.  I’m definitely super excited!  I am also signed up for an internship where I will be going into a school and teaching/tutoring kids English.  I chose high school students since I am working already with elementary students in my paid job.  I haven’t received a schedule for this yet, but I’m really looking forward to getting started.

Well, besides classes I have mostly just been keeping busy with odds and ends here and there.  I spend a lot of time writing and even just walking around the city of Viterbo just soaking everything in.  I’m planning on joining the gym and getting in some Italian Zumba, which will probably be the highlight of my next few weeks.  But other than that, this next month with be super busy with trips planned to Florence, Pisa, San Martino, Perugia (which will host a large chocolate festival!!!), and Assisi.  So, because my calendar is pretty much full for October, I’m thinking its going to fly by.

Well, that’s pretty much all for now!  I do apologize for spelling/grammatical errors in any of my postings.  I don’t exactly have an editor!  Until next time…

Ciao! A presto!

From a place on the map to home sweet home

The Colosseum!

Ciao!

My oh my.  Where to begin…

It’s really difficult just summing up what has been going on in some simple blog updates. 

I have a couple of small essays I wrote and want to post… but I’m going to have a few people look at them for some editing before I post them for all to see.  But until then… I just wanted to get something up here.

So… on the 21^st of September the group of USAC students headed down to Rome for a tour of the Colosseum and the Roman Forum.  It was the second time I’ve seen it, but it was amazing nonetheless.  It’s crazy to step off the train, and literally walk just a few steps until you get outside, with the Colosseum just right there in front of you.  From there we met up with a tour guide who took us into the Colosseum and ancient ruins of the Forum and gave us some historical and factual insight.  This took until about 2 pm from which we headed over to Piazza di Spagna, the Trevi Fountain, and the Altar of the Nation. 

A wish in the well... don't ask me, I'll never tell!

My favorite part of the day though was definitely seeing the Trevi Fountain up close in person.  You don’t realize how big it actually is until you’re there, with the crystal blue waters spewing down from the intricate and detailed marble statues.  The Trevi Fountain is also affectionately known as the wishing fountain.  There are a couple of legends, one of which says that if you put your back to the fountain, and toss in a coin with your right hand over your left shoulder, it will guarantee your return to the Eternal City of Rome.  But being the not so superstitious person that I am, I just figured, hey, I’m throwing a penny in a fountain, I’ll just make up my own wish.  I mean yeah, it would be great to return and all…. but there are a few other things on my list…

Anyways, after the wonderful time spent at the Trevi fountain we walked around a bit, passing by the more modernized city streets almost appearing to be more like a street of New York City than an ancient city of Rome.  But after passing a Gucci, Gap, H&M, among others, you also pass by spots of churches that knock you back to reality.  I guess it was odd at moments to realize these stores weren’t hiding in cement skyscrapers, but rather ancient buildings that lined the vias and piazzas of an ancient city.  But hey, people have graduated from shopping around for tomatoes and cucumbers I guess… that’s just how life goes.

From there we took the metro to the train station, which took a small group of us to our home sweet home of Viterbo.  And when I say home sweet home, I mean home sweet home.  The funny thing is, I didn’t realize what a special place Viterbo was until that day spent at Rome.

The walk from my apartment to school.

You see, Rome, not at all in contrast to the assumed, is a city mostly catered to tourists.  It wasn’t just Italian, it screamed Italian.  The city seemed to suck up every bit of stereotypical bit of Italian identity and regurgitate it back out.  From an overabundance of restaurants with outdoor seating, to the extremely busy pizzerias, with chefs adorned with tall white hats and English speaking skills to street vendors and shops spilling from the brim with pasta cookbooks, pizza magnets, and postcards. 

I mean maybe it was just me, but that’s not the Italy I came to know and love when I arrived here a month ago.  Viterbo is truly an authentic medieval town that lies hushed against the populous and touristy sites of the country.  It’s history goes all the way back to the Etruscans, with stops in the medieval period, and most importantly it’s the birthplace of the Papal Conclave, the formal meeting that convenes to elect a new Bishop of Rome. But that’s just the historical part of it.

Today, it’s a quiet yet vibrant city that has become not only where I go to school, shop for my fresh produce on weekends, study and hang out with friends, but it has also become my home.  From the friendly faces to the inviting smiles, I feel nothing but welcomed as the locals help me through my transition here to my new life in Italy.  Even as I stumble through my Italian the locals have been there to offer a small laugh against what would be so easy to consider a mistake or failure. 

The five girls I tutor, all ready their tutoring session!

In the journey they’ve helped me realize that life, especially transitioning to living in a foreign country with customs and culture so unlike your own, is something to not be taken so seriously.  It’s not something to bite your tongue over, or attempt to fight when its something you can’t change.  Little by little, you learn, you change, you discover.  You begin to understand things about yourself that you’ve never known before.  And most importantly, you realize you can’t do it alone.  It takes a city to raise a child, and it definitely took Viterbo to help me realize the grandeur of all that life has to offer.   And for that, I’m so appreciative of everything this city has offered me thus far.  For all that I’ve learned about myself and the world around me in this short month, I can’t wait to find out what the next three have in store for me.

All I meant though to share today was a small update on how I’ve been, so I hope I’ve accomplished that.  It’s difficult to share in words the changes, the discoveries, and the ideas that swarm my head and my being on a day-to-day basis.  Even today, I was privileged to host my second English tutoring course for the group of elementary students at one of the girls' homes.  The group magically turned from 3 to 5… I’m not sure how that happened but it definitely added some spunk and energy to the group.  I’m finally seeing my career and my future pan out in tangible ways and I couldn’t be any more excited.  There’s definitely a magic in being able to spend time with children from a completely different country and way of life, and still be able to so easily share smiles and laughter from across the table.  Sometimes I wonder if it’s me doing more of the teaching or them.

My host mom, Roberta and I in the kitchen.

I’m excited for all that is still awaiting me within the next few days, weeks... and following months.  One of the girl’s families, the mother at the home that I tutor at, invited me for dinner this Friday at their home.  She only speaks a small amount of English, and I, only a small amount of Italian, so I’m sure it will be interesting.  But we will fare.  I mean I can’t say I’m not used to it living with a host mom that knows the same amount of English.  I still think it would be quite funny if anybody were to eavesdrop on our conversations; which what seem to be crazy a fiesta of English fragments and chopped up Italian phrases.  But as I’ve said, that’s how we learn.  That’s how we discover.  That’s how we live.

Here’s to Italy.  And here’s to the next 3 months living in this beautiful country I can for now happily call my home.

Thus Far ...

 Ciao!

Enjoying a gigantic prosciutto funghi pizza!

It’s hard to believe it’s already been almost four weeks.  It’s going so fast, so I have to stop and remind myself to enjoy and appreciate every fleeting moment.  All of my classes have finally started up, which has been keeping me busy outside of all the other necessities of living in a foreign country.  I just had my first Italian test today, which I feel pretty confident about.  I actually was able to study a lot today because I had to stay home from my Italian Hill Towns class field trip.  It started out with a soar throat a few days ago and it’s not exactly getting better. And the fact that its 50 Euro to see a doctor and you can’t get medicine outside of a pharmacy is making things a little difficult.  But I got some delicious tea, which is a big thing for me to say, because I really don’t like tea.  I was able to enjoy a nice big mug of it yesterday, but not so much today.  All I have to show for today is a burnt thumb and a broken fingernail…  couldn’t exactly figure out how to turn on the stove… ahh… the joys of living in a foreign country.

So, yesterday probably was of the most exciting days.  I went to the grocery store near my apartment, Emi Piu.  I filled up an entire cart with my friend and went up to the only register open.  So we put our stuff on the counter and after figuring out we spoke barely any Italian, the clerk tried showing us that we were supposed to weigh our vejis and fruits and put a sticker on it before we brought it up to purchase.  Yeah… we couldn’t really figure out that’s what she meant.  So she took us to the produce section while the line started getting longer and longer until she finally showed us how to print our stickers with the price.  My friend and I could only smile at the people in line.  “Mi Dispiace, Mi Dispiace” I’m sorry, I’m sorry. 

Tarquinia... enjoying the beautiful scenery!

At the store today there was this older lady too who decided she wanted to start a conversation with me because we made eye contact accidentally.  She looked blankly at me and just started talking.  I listened, and before she went too far into conversation I said, “Mi dispiace, Io capisco un po Italiano.”  I’m sorry; I only understand a little bit of Italian.  She wouldn’t stop talking so I just kinda smiled and left.  And then later, by the ice cream, she was there again.  Apparently she didn’t get what I said so she started talking to me once again.  I just kind of smiled and kept looking at the ice cream. Hey guys, I’m trying, I really am.  I guess odd people live here too.

Other than the awkward grocery store conversations, embarrassing grocery store trip, and burnt thumbs, things have been going pretty well.  I got a tutoring job teaching three 4^th grade girls how to speak English.  This might sound like a pretty straightforward job, but there’s a little more too it than you may think.  First of all, I don’t speak Italian, and second, they don’t speak English… which may or may not have already been established, but that I guess is aside the point. The good thing is the girls are super sweet and they are patient and try hard with what we are working on.  I have been doing some googling on the internet because I haven’t been formally trained on how to teach English as a second language.  English teaching may be my major but I’ve only mainly taken the core courses.  Math and science aren’t exactly helpful in this situation.  But I’m excited to see where it will go and I’m definitely putting my all into it because first I want to help the kids get where they need to be with their language learning, and second, it’s a step on the right path with my future career goals.

Courtyard at Universita degli Studi della Tuscia, my university

Outside of the day to day, I was able to go on another trip. Just last Friday our Hill Towns class went to Tarquinia, a beautiful ancient walled in town, similar to Viterbo.  But this was a hot spot of Etruscan civilization so it hosted a plethora of ancient artifacts within the museums and even the city itself was evidence to the prosperous civilization.  It was really cool to see artifacts I had remembered only from history books.  One in particular, the relief of the winged horses yoked to a chariot, especially stood out.  The detail in every one of the pieces I was able to see was simply fascinating.  Also, the several pieces of detailed pottery that dated back to the Etruscans was equally as entrancing as I remembered several pieces from my 9^th grade Latin class workbooks.  If you click this link, you can see some photos of the trip.  I apologize; I didn’t realize you needed a snapfish account to view the photos.  But all you need to put in is your basic info like name and email and you’re pretty much done.  They don’t pester you with anything either, so no worries. (link yet to be added)

View from Tarquinia.

Well, despite the disappointment of being home sick today, I’m excited for this weekend, our first trip to Rome.  I had been to Rome in high school for a week, but it was so quick it was hard to take it all in.  I’m excited to just go and take time to look around.  I won’t be so rushed because it’s a short train ride and I have time to visit again a few times if I’d like before I leave.  There are plenty other trips we have scheduled, including the 5 day Field Study I signed up for where we will have the opportunity to visit Pisa and Florence, among others.  I’ve been trying to plan other weekend trips, and a trip for a four-day weekend in November, but I still have time to figure it out.  I’m trying to just take it one day at a time and not get caught up in the need to have every moment planned with trips and places to go.  Viterbo is a nice place in an of itself, and I’m enjoying just making my new home, home.

Well, all for now!  Ciao!

Lakeside towns: Capodimonte and Bolsena

Lakeside view in Capodimonte

This last Saturday, all the students from my Viterbo study abroad program, USAC, packed their beach bags and suntan lotion for a relaxing day at the beach near the waters of Lake Bolsena.  At about 50 students, we weren’t able to take public transportation, so a tour bus took us to our two destinations: first the small town of Capodimonte followed by a brief visit to another lakeside town of Bolsena.

The bus ride from Viterbo to Capodimonte only took us about 45 minutes and landed us at the southwestern shore of Lake Bolsena.  Capodimonte is a small and relaxed town with a wonderful beach and comfortable atmosphere.  The sunny weather had also enticed many of the locals to come and enjoy the nice sunny Saturday afternoon, so it was a wonderful opportunity to join in right alongside them. 

My friend Jessica and I enjoying the refreshing water

I didn’t have any problem jumping right in and swimming around a bit, enjoying the beautiful scenery and cool water.  Apparently, the lake is known to be so clean it is suitable for bathing.  Even local fisherman use it to cook their popular fish soup.  The lake is actually the largest in Europe to have been formed due to the eruption of a volcano.  It even has two small islands that were formed by underwater eruptions.  One of the islands, named Bisentina Island, has a rich history that begins when it was inhabited by the Etruscans and Romans.  I wasn’t able to visit the island but apparently in the center of the island there is a jail built inside a hill with a trap door that was used to house clergymen guilty of heresy.  But that’s my next trip, hopefully!

Castle top view of the city of Bolsena

After a relaxing afternoon, the group ended our day trip at the town of Bolsena, a city that hosts (along with Viterbo, among others) one of the major vias to Rome (heard the expression, all roads lead to Rome?), Via Cassia.  From the Oak lined pathways that followed the scenery of Lake Bolsena to the quaint and peaceful vias staged with a plethora of colorful begonias and the occasional trumpet vine bursting into bloom, it seemed the town was straight from a storybook.  I enjoyed just perusing down the town streets, taking in all the sights and sounds, but most of all the quiet energy, the subdued peace and fluidity of every little moment.   

A quiet and peaceful via in Bolsena

In Bolsena we had the opportunity to take a little tour around the Castle of Bolsena, which hosted some magnificent views of the city with the lake as the perfect backdrop. 

Though it was a wonderful experience, as part of a group trip I didn’t get the most time to spend where I wanted and the time to peruse the town and take everything in was very limited.  Because it is only a short bus ride, I am planning on visiting again and learning more about what this beautiful lakeside town has to offer.  

Because my blog can only host a limited number of photos,  I've decided to upload a few more to Snapfish.  Check them out by clicking on this link.

The Festival of Santa Rosa

Viterbo's musicians celebrating Santa Rosa on the 2nd

Hello everybody.  It’s been quite busy here in Viterbo, but not busy enough to post some updates and photos! 

So, last Monday was the Festa di Santa Rosa, or the Festival of Saint Rose.  It’s a big deal in Viterbo because Saint Rose is actually the patron Saint of the city, and dubbed protectorate.

Saint Rose preached in the streets of Viterbo when people were beginning to lose faith in their Catholic religion during the Papal disputes in the first half of the 13^th century.  Though many scorned her, others listened.  Through her preaching, many people’s faith was restored and they once again returned under the guiding wing of the Church. 

The Macchina is unveiled

Because her preaching did not support the Roman Empire, she was expelled from Viterbo until two years later when papal authority was restored.  She then was welcomed back with open arms and though she tried to join a monastery in Viterbo, she was rejected.  Saint Rose died shortly after at the estimated age of only 19.  Though she lived a short life, her influence was not forgotten, and her spirit lives on in the city, especially in second week of September.  Her feast day is on the 3^rd, so the entire city comes alive with festivities and parades under her name all celebrating her influence, and the difference she made in a city that almost lost hope in not only their faith, but the prosperity of their home of Viterbo. 

Though the festivities run all week, the main event isn’t until the 3^rd of September, when at 9 pm, 100 men called Facchini, carry a 30-meter tall, 10,000 pound Macchina through the streets of Viterbo.  The magnificent tower is brightly lit up with candles and at the top is a statue of Saint Rose herself.  The procession of the tower through the city is so revered, that many natives of the area are known to reserve a spot on street corners as early as 6 am the day of the festival.

As the tower approached the street from where I watched, everybody clapped and sigh in awe of the magnificent creation and what it represented.  All I could see was the great candle-lit Macchina against the dark night sky, as the entire city had shut out their lights so the great tower could be seen.  It was almost frightening to know that only 100 men held it up, but luckily I knew the tradition held strong without a history of any unfortunate incidents. 

The magnificent 30 meter tall Macchina

Now that the festival is all over, the entire city has calmed and quieted.  It was an adjustment at first, because it was exciting to arrive at the height of the festivities, but I can’t complain, as I will probably be appreciating the quiet moments when it comes time to study and do homework.  Though oddly enough, an apartment nearby decided to play an American Christmas movie at midnight right outside my window yesterday.  It was nice to hear sounds of home, but it felt slightly awkward given the context of time.

Well, keep posted because soon I will share some photos and writing about my most recent trip to Bolsena, one of the most beautiful cities I have yet visited.

Only the Iceberg of the Dolce Vita

I’ve only been here for a week, and they say Italian culture is like an iceberg.  You only see the tip of it but there is so much more to it you cannot see at first glance.  So to cast opinions or ideals on this completely foreign culture is not what I came here to do but instead only to observe and immerse myself to become more understanding of a way of life so completely unlike my own.  This way I can see myself, my culture, and my way of life through an entirely different perspective.

So because it has only been a week, I can really only say I’ve seen the tip of the iceberg, for there is so many things I know I have yet to realize, understand, and even notice.  But we have to start somewhere, so here are a few observations I’ve made over the course of a few days.

Italians have a sense of style.  

Sexy?

From satin scarves to scarlet red sandals, every wardrobe in Italy is probably not only colorful, but sophisticated as well… I mean come on… even the men wear purses.  Well, I looked it up and it’s technically called a satchel, but sitting down at the ipercoop which is basically like an Italian version of a Wal-Mart (at least as far as selection goes), I noticed that almost every man I saw was carrying a purse/satchel that I knew for a fact wasn’t their girlfriend’s or wives.  I think it’s kind of cool… although I’m not sure if I’m ready to see American men walking around the mall wearing a “satchel.”  It’s just different though, nothing for better or worse.

People in general look really well put together, are often wearing layers, and usually very nice shoes, especially the women.  Nobody wears flip-flops, at least that I’ve seen, and the only place I saw them for sale was in the swimming section at a sports store.  Luckily, the markets here have a good selection of locally made shoes and clothes that are very reasonably priced, usually anywhere from E  € 5 to € 25.  I noticed too that I have seen very little clothing with writing in Italian.  Most of the clothes I’ve seen with writing have been in English.  There is even a Timberland store in Viterbo and several people wear brand clothes like Nike and Adidas.

  So here, you can look good, without emptying your wallet. All in all, in order to have a bella figura (beautiful figure/presentation), you must always look your best in order to make a good impression, even if you’re just needing to make a quick run to the local supermarket.

A couple walking outside the walls of Viterbo. 

Italians know how to be in love. 

I mean maybe I’m just a cheesy romantic, but I could sit down for hours and just watch Italian couples. Already Italians seem to have a natural fluidity in their movement, and they don’t have such a separateness and sense of space like we do.  So naturally, with their lovers, they seem to be able to moreso express themselves openly of their affection.  Even the simple things like holding hands and a brief loving kiss are things I notice that I don’t see as often back at home.  I guess it may have also something to do with the more relaxed nature and slow paced life style… they aren’t in a hurry to be anywhere so why not spend a little more time at the café with your lover sharing some quality time?  I think it’s a good standard to have, something our culture shouldn’t be afraid to embrace.  After all, it’s the small simple things that mean the most. 

The clothesline… a metaphor for the Italian conception of time.

Today as I was sitting outside of my apartment at the picnic table snacking on a pesca (peach), I looked up at all the clotheslines, quietly hanging up against almost every balcony.  Each one held up an array of colorful clothing, every article seemingly to stubbornly dry against the humidity of the day and the heavy rain of the night before.  And then it just hit me… the clothesline… what a perfect metaphor for the Italian conception of time.

First of all, every day from 1 until 4pm all the shops close for an afternoon break called pausa pranzo.   Some people nap, some people still wander the town streets, but overall its just a time for people to relax and spend time at home, to take in the day, and not worry about the stresses surrounding.  Now the question is… why can’t we do that in America?

Within the walls of Viterbo

But you can’t compare apples to oranges… or maybe you can.  Either way though there just isn’t a sense of urgency or rush in day-to-day life.  There is never any hurrying or a rushed mentality and every moment is spent to its fullest.  If you go to eat lunch, you go to eat lunch to enjoy the food, talk over your favorite pasta dish, and enjoy the beautiful day.  There’s no hurrying through a fast food restaurant and I have yet to see a policeman dodging traffic with doughnut crumbs flying out the window (though I can’t say I’ve seen that in America either).  Though you can take pizza to go, or portare via, every line I’ve seen the people were patiently waiting just having a nice chat; something I probably would have preferred at my first job working the busy lunchtime crowds at Subway.

So no matter the occasion, Italian’s don’t run by the clock, they run the clock.  They can wait for the clothes on the line.  Rain, shine, wind, humidity; what’s the sense in having a drier when you just don’t need it?   There’s always tomorrow and there’s always the moment right in front of them that they must enjoy to its very fullest.  After all, they call it the dolce vita for a reason.

Ciao! Arrival Update!

I wish there was a perfect way to describe the people, the smells, the old buildings, the cobblestone… the fact that I am sitting on my laptop at 4 am in the morning writing when my body can’t figure out that I’m exhausted and I need sleep, but there simply isn’t.  So instead, I will merely attempt to accomplish the impossible to share my journey with you thus far in this beautiful country of Italy.

Piazza dei Caduti, a central and often busy piazza in Viterbo

There is so much to catch up on, I’m not sure that I would be able to fit it in only a few paragraphs.  My days are completely thrown off, so I have no clue really what time it is in Boise.  All I know is that right now its 3:54 am, a bad dream woke me up, and I’m trying to fight my body to tell it that I actually am tired and I do need sleep despite my insistent yearning to get up, open the door, and pretend I am home again. 

 

But that’s aside the point.  I must get on with things because I am finally here so I have so many new things to share! I will return home in only a matter of months, so I musn’t take a single moment for granted.  They say to write is to live twice, so all the better.

Right now I am sitting in a little room in an apartment on Via Montegrappa just a 15-minute walk outside the walls of Viterbo.  My bedroom walls are a creamy yellow, evident to the colorful taste of the Italians in general, my bedding is an azzurro (blue) and giallo (yellow) patterned with fiore (flowers) and the floor is… cold (the colors just aren’t as exciting)…  All these small details that I’m sure you have been dying to know.  I have a very grande bed, I think what we call king size, but for some reason it has two mattresses.  The bed is about ¾ the size of the room so I’m assuming it will have many other uses besides sleeping by the end of this year.  There is an armoire, a nightstand, two one and a half feet red bedside lamps, and a gorgeous window with bright orange sheer curtains.

Boys preparing to carry a mini-macchina

The mini-macchina, only a hint of what is to come

  Last night I fell asleep to the song of Italian men laughing in the sweet and cordial moments of the late hours of the night, having only moments before been crowding the city streets. All of this week has been a busy time for Viterbo, as the city is bustling with people in celebration of the city’s patron saint, Santa Rosa.  The usually quiet and relaxed atmosphere of the city becomes alive with colors, laughter, and costumes up until the 3^rd of September, when 110 Viterbo men will carry through the streets a 30-meter tall, 10,000 pound statue with Santa Rosa proudly displayed at the top.  It was only the night before the official celebration of Santa Rosa, but the sounds of trumpets and clapping and singing of the young children dressed up in costumes was something still heard around the city.  

  In preparation and practice for the big day on the 3^rd of September, 110 boys and young men carried a mini-macchina.  It was really quite the place to be, and the enthusiasm of the locals was quite infectious.  As the mini-macchina processed down the streets, several around me did the sign of the cross in respect of Santa Rosa.  Though the festivities are quite loud and exciting, it was this little moment that made me realize the true importance of Santa Rosa to Viterbo, a history that goes way back to the 13^th century.

From the festival to the tours, I have been quite busy since I got here only 3 days ago.  I arrived on a group flight with USAC from Chicago that was about nine hours long.  Luckily, I slept most of the time on the plane, only awake to taste the wonderful cheese ravioli, which by the way, is a perfect smell as the cheesy pasta wafted up from between the airplane head cushions and density of travelers.  It was a wonderful way to prepare me, and be all the more appreciative of the real Italian food that was awaiting me after the nine-hour flight.  Unfortunately though, not even working in a greenhouse prepared me for the heat and humidity that smothered me as I stepped off the plane onto the bus that would take us to the baggage claim to pick up our luggage.  At that moment I was very thankful that I stuffed a pair of Bermuda denim shorts in the front pocket of my carry on, but I’d have yet to realize it’s not exactly a fitting choice among the formally dressed Italians. 

From the airport we were brought to a very nice hotel right outside of the city walls, to gain our bearings and relax amongst the busyness we have succumb to for the past few days in the hustle and bustle of everything needed to get done to move ½ way across the world.  But before that, the group made its way for dinner at a local Pizzeria, where we were served bruschetta appetizer, margherita, hot dog, and eggplant pizza, and wonderfully delicious gelato (one scoop chocolate and one scoop fiore de latte flavor).  It was the perfect way to welcome us to our future home of Italy and it was a lovely setting to be able to share the experience with fellow travelers from all over the United States.  I also had the privilege to meet Fabby, a young woman native to Viterbo who studies also at the local university.  Luckily, as my Italian is quite lacking, she spoke English almost perfectly well, so we were able to carry on a great conversation. 

The next morning everyone was split up and sent to their new living arrangements.  To prior agreements, I was sent to a host mom along with my new roommate, Jessica.  Though I was slightly nervous to meet my new host mom, I found comfort in the fact of my assumption that my host mom spoke English so I perhaps could have a bit of familiarity amongst this new foreign place.  But, boy, was I wrong.

Meeting Roberta was lovely, as she is a wonderfully nice lady who was kind enough to let us live with her for these few months that we will call Viterbo our home.  She has two children, both old enough to have moved out as they both currently call Rome their permanent home.  At home, Roberta’s closest companion is Dalila (pronounced Dah-Lee-Lah) her spunky little Yorkshire terrier who I have already come to love.  She welcomed us with a lovely pasta lunch with fresh cheese and fresh tomato.  My family is testimony to my distaste of cold pasta, but I am happy to share that the dish might have just changed my mind… (a decision which I am sure will not travel back with me to America… as comparable as the cooking is ;-)  

Dalila. :-)

 Roberta met us at the apartment door with a smile and a proper Italian greeting of a kiss on each cheek.  The taxi driver was nice enough to help bring in our luggage, despite the heavy pioggia, a word that I looked up in my handy pocket dictionary when I realized he didn’t understand that I was trying to infer about the rain in Viterbo that was currently pounding down on the windshield.  As I struggled to relate with him my mode of thought, and after I spout out pioggia, my first official Italian word other than general greetings and courtesies, he smiled, threw out his hand in felicita (happiness) and said, “ahhhh, pioggia.” All I replied was si si, but the smiles and laughter we shared was enough to get us to our new home in appreciation of eachother’s company.

Once he got our luggage in the door, Roberta showed us in, carrying on in Italian, relating to us where we would be staying for the next four months.  I was quite pleased of the spacious apartment, and I couldn’t complain about the wonderful balcony that led right outside of the back door of the kitchen, home to a table and chairs and an assortment of flower and herb pots.  “fiore,” Roberta tells me as I pointed to the small pink Mandevilla growing next to her window.  “fiore” I thought… a perfect word, right in there next to “pioggia” to introduce me to tongue and taste of the Italian language.  And as my friend said, a language so sweet, it tastes like gelato in the mouth.

After sitting us down at the table set nicely just for us, she sat on the sofa facing the table, still speaking Italian, so I had to be keen on body language and hand gestures to try to figure out just what she was saying.  After some quite choppy English/Italian conversation, she looks at me after we talk of languages and says in perfect English “I understand English.”  I looked at her, surprised, thinking what an idiot I probably sounded like now that I know she speaks and understand English, but I assume has decided to only speak in Italian to us.  I felt fooled, and quite stupid but the fact didn’t really match her sweet and innocent nature.  I felt slightly befuddled, and didn’t really say anything, pretending to be keen on the delicious pasta in front of me, trying to stop my brain running in circles trying to figure all of this out.

Luckily though, I am pleased to tell you now, oddly enough, that Roberta speaks only Italian, and does understand English, but only a small amount.  Perhaps because she said, “I understand English” In perfect English I was fooled, so I guess I had no place to draw assumptions.  Though it is quite frustrating at times to try and communicate with her in a language I don’t understand, I’m realizing how helpful it is in learning Italian.  I can’t really imagine how much patience it takes to teach two American girls who probably spout out “Ciao, si, and grazie” one hundred times to you in a day because they have no idea what else to say. 

My friend Abby and I at the local gelato shop!

Outside of the homestay everything has been quite wonderful.  I couldn’t ask for a better group of friends which I am sure will become my family by the time I must return to my home.  Even already they have provided me laughter and familiarity in a foreign country that I am still learning to call home.  From conversations at the local café to late night tours around the streets of Viterbo, snacking on Gelato, and helping me realize that in Europe brown shoes don’t clash with a brown overhang as long as it’s decent and somewhat sophisticated, I couldn’t be more appreciative of the memories we have already begun to build.

Though there is so much more I’d love to say, I know I’ll write more soon.  It’s already 5 in the morning here and I do have to catch up on some sleep for another day of walking around the city (one reason Italians don’t need gym memberships, and why I probably won’t need one either).  Thanks for keeping up with me on my journey and I look forward to sharing more with you soon.  Arrive’derci!  

I apologize for any mistakes with the Italian in my posts... I am just learning!  Also, factual information is found via research.  This post was written around 4am on the 3rd of September, so since then much has happened, including the procession of the la Macchina di Santa Rosa.  I wasn't able to post this when I actually wrote it  because I have had very little access to the internet.  But keep posted!