Pasqua!

This Easter was a little different from my past Easters. The last two were spent at UCLA, stealing hard boiled eggs from the dining halls and buying chocolate eggs for myself from Ackerman. And the 18 Easters before that were spent with the family (either in San Carlos, Chico, or Alamo), eating a wonderful meal that someone had cooked up and hunting for chocolate Easter eggs around the house or yard.

This year, no one hid Easter eggs for me or cooked me lasagna. Instead, my wonderful cousin Matteo bought me a HUGE chocolate egg (a typical Italian Easter treat for kids) and we cooked hamburgers and french fries together at my apartment. Yes, you read that right: we made hamburgers with lettuce/cheese/tomato/bacon/onions and french fries (and salad!) for Easter lunch in Italy. And as Matteo would tell you (and it's true), I have never made a hamburger before. So not only was it my first time cooking hamburgers (I apologize for not upholding my American heritage properly), but I was doing it in Italy. And just for clarification, we bought the hamburger patties pre-formed and it's not that I didn't know HOW to cook them (because it seemed pretty simple), I just had never DONE it before.... Maybe some day I'll actually buy the meat and make the patties myself.

Cooking our hamburgers.

Preparing our table for our feast!

Matteo with our french fries.

But anyway, we spent a lovely Easter weekend together stuffing ourselves full of food and chocolate, we took a "passeggiata" (a little walk) after our Easter lunch, we watched a couple episodes of the Big Bang Theory and How I Met Your Mother, and we took a naps. It was so much fun to have some one-on-one time with Matteo and he is a huge reason why this whole year has been an amazing experience. From the moment Allison and I stepped off the plane and had to deal with our lost luggage (yeah, remember that story from 8 months ago?), to all the times he has suggested dinners together and has invited us to meet his friends, Matteo and all the other Italian cousins have welcomed me into their lives. As my study abroad experience is starting to come to a close, I find myself thinking back on all the wonderful opportunities I've had, people I've met, and friends I've made. And I'm going to miss all of it so much. I've created a new little life over here for myself, and it will be strange to leave the people who have played such prominent roles in shaping my experiences. Of course I will miss Italy and miss speaking in Italian, but I've learned that it's really the people (both here and back home) who contribute the most to the best memories that are made in life.

:)

Birthday Weekend!

Although birthdays are meant to be celebrated on just one day out of the year, I felt like my birthday this year lasted a week! Those are always the best types of birthdays, too, and I was especially appreciative because I was a bit sad to be missing out on the typical 21st birthday bash in the U.S (you know, where you go to a bar at exactly midnight, hope you get carded when you order your first legal drink just so you can whip out your ID and show them that it's your 21st birthday). And for Italians (and everyone else in the world), turning 21 isn't a big deal because the drinking age here is 18. The only benefit for turning 21 when you're not an American is that now you can drink in the U.S. when you go visit.

So the birthday week started with Allison's birthday on March 9th (we're conveniently born a week apart). We commenced by bringing in her birthday with good friends, drinking, dancing, and watching a male stripper make selected girls feel awkward (March 8th was International Women's Day, and I guess they celebrate by having male strippers...to make women feel special...?). On Saturday afternoon, Allison and I had a joint birthday party with a picnic in the park! We were fortunate that the weather was nice and it was sunny, however things outside were wrapped up as soon as the sun started to set. It was nice to spend an afternoon outside in Giardini Margherita (the park near my apartment) with good friends, food, wine, chocolate, etc. To make that day better, my internet started working! It was a wonderful early birthday present. For the two weeks before, I had been without internet at my apartment since we were changing contracts and Italians are, of course, unable to coordinate and make transitions smooth for the customers. As my cousin Matteo told me, "It's not Fastweb, it's Italy."

The next birthday celebration was to bring in my special day at midnight (Thursday night), so Matteo set up a family dessert-and-wine festa with the Italian cousins in Bologna and Allison, her friend visiting from Australia, and me. The restaurant we went to (at which Matteo's friend is a cook and Elio and Anna's friend is a co-owner) made Allison and I a HUGE chocolate cake! We were so excited because it was the most American-like cake we've eaten all year. Italy has some great pastries and cake-like desserts soaked in alcohol, but I've been missing a simple chocolate cake with delicious frosting. The richness and size of this cake definitely satisfied that craving. It was wonderful to bring in my 21st birthday surrounded by family and good friends.

Linley, Allison, and me with our chocolate cake!

On Friday (my actual birthday) I slept in, made pancakes with strawberries for breakfast, went to the gym, and packed my bags for Cinque Terre. Allison, her Australian friend Linley, and I spent the weekend in Cinque Terre--a region of 5 coastal towns connected by walking paths and a local train and with picturesque views of the ocean, the hills, and colorful buildings. It was absolutely beautiful, and it felt so nice to get out of the city and be able to enjoy the open sky and endless ocean. Saturday, the three of us walked from Riomaggiore (where we had our hotel) to the next town north of us, and then we took a 1.5-hour walking detour to the 3rd town (from the 2nd to the 5th towns, the paved and short paths were closed because of the harsh winter mudslides). It was a bit of a workout climbing up the steep hill above Manarola, walking amongst the hillside vineyards, and then heading back down to Corniglia. After that, all the paths were closed, so we hopped on the local train to the most norther town, Monterosso al Mare, for lunch. After enjoying the sun, the beach, and the gelato in Monterosso, we took the train south just one town to Vernazza--the one we had bypassed on our way up.

Paved walking path between Riomaggiore and Manarola.

Looking down on Corniglia.

Throughout the day, I hadn't seen any evidence of the mudslides and floods from the October and November rains, so I figured they had just affected the walking paths. But as soon as we stepped off the train in Vernazza, the scene was striking. The whole main road of Vernazza had obviously been completely washed out and just re-paved. Staircases from front doors down to the street never reached the ground because the bottoms had crumbled, every single shop door was boarded up, and the harbor 'beach' was filled with piles of dirt for the reconstruction. They were trying to fix everything up before tourist-season hit for the summer.

On Sunday, we headed to Florence. Unfortunately, this plan coincided with a regional train strike in all of Tuscany...which is exactly where we needed to travel through. After waiting 3 hours in the train station in La Spezia, we finally caught a fast train to Pisa, where we decided to walk around, take pictures with the leaning tower, and eat dinner in order to wait out the train strike (which ended at 9pm that night). Fortunately, we were able to grab the first train from Pisa to Florence, where we found our hostel and went to bed. Monday morning we took a walk through Florence, went up to the roof of the Duomo, and strolled through the markets. We made it back to Bologna safe and sound (and a bit tired of train stations), which concluded our birthday festivities. It was such a great trip, and an unforgettable way to celebrate my 21st birthday!

Me "pushing" the Tower of Pisa.

Me on the roof of the Duomo in Florence.

P.S. my first "legal" drink by American standards was a glass of Prosecco (fizzy, sweet, white wine) at the restaurant for dinner in Riomaggiore. When Allison told the owner it was my birthday, he changed the music to the happy birthday song (on repeat...) and he brought us extra glasses of Prosecco and a shot of limoncello with dessert. He didn't ask to see ID though.

My birthday tiramisu!

Snowboarding in the Spring

For those of you who have been trying to keep up with my blog, I apologize for not holding up my end of the bargain and actually keeping up with it myself. I haven't found much motivation lately to catch up on the last 2 months because I feel like I'm in such a different place now than I was 2 months ago (which would have been Christmas in Rome with Tarn and the cousins). And when I write about things that have happened that long ago, it tends to be fairly uninspired and flat since I'm not writing in the moment. So in an effort to catch up, I'll be going a bit out of order and starting with my adventures from yesterday (Saturday, February 25th).

Yesterday, I went snowboarding with cousins Matteo and Claudio, and Matteo's friend Flavio. The nearest slopes are only an hour drive away and I had no idea what to expect in terms of the size of the mountain (maybe it would be a "big hill" by California Lake Tahoe and Mt. Shasta standards). I was pleased to see that it was, in fact, a very good sized mountain with numerous ski slopes of all shapes and sizes. I had been hoping to go snowboarding this year, since I've gone with friends for the last 3 or 4 years in California, but I had given up hope until last week when Matteo suggested we go for the day. And we made it just in time: on Friday it felt like the first day of Spring and a few days before that it had rained, so most of the snow has been disappearing. This was true on the mountain, too. Even at the top, looking down from the ski lift were grasses and bushes peaking out from under a thin layer of snow.

Getting ready after a lunch (and beer) break.

Flavio and Matteo

The most surprising part for me was that I kept shedding layers of clothes. It was about 50 degrees Fahrenheit, even at the summit, and the sun was beating down all day. It was the first time I've ever been to the snow and have been hot just standing still in the sun (I usually get warm once I start snowboarding because of the exercise, but my nose and cheeks are always freezing no matter what). But yesterday, I removed the warm inside liner of my snow jacket (and I kept the shell on...usually unzipped as I was going down the slopes), I didn't have any need for a hat or scarf, and the snow gloves I borrowed from Matteo were only on my hands when I was actually snowboarding because my hands would sweat otherwise. I finally understood those pictures in which Norwegian or Swiss skiers would be wearing simply tank tops and leggings, or even shorts. Before yesterday, I thought those people were crazy and I wondered how they could even fathom not wearing hats, snow pants, and a heavy jacket. Now it makes complete sense because on more than one occasion I was tempted to take off my long-sleeved REI shirt and just keep on my tank top. Of course I didn't because I knew I would inevitably fall and be very grateful to have some extra layers protecting me from the icy snow.

And I did fall--several times of course. But the biggest falls were not of my own clumsiness and loss of control. (Well, twice I did find an alternative way to get down the mountain faster using my butt instead of the board...but that's normal for me.) The first big fall happened fairly early in the day: I was minding my own business, making sure to keep a good distance from the people in front of me and to not make any unsuspected moves so the faster people behind me could easily move around me on the wide slope, and somehow a skier came close enough to me that he caught the edge of my board and we got tangled and slid down part of the slope. Neither of us were hurt and I was fortunate to slide on my back instead of falling forward like he did. After exchanging a simple and short "sorry, are you ok?" it made me realize how much more space we give others in the U.S. There were many times yesterday when skiers and snowboarders came waaaaaay too close for comfort to me, and I was unfortunately guilty of that a few times on the narrower paths. I guess the limited personal space is involved in all aspects of life: on the streets, on the buses, on the ski slopes.... I wouldn't say it "bothered" me, since I've gotten more used to it living here for 6 months, but I definitely noticed that it was a different custom from that on the ski slopes in California.

The next 3 times that I fell not on my own accord were as I was coming to a stop at the bottom of a slope or reaching a plateau at a crossing of two slopes. One of these times I was carefully trying to pass stopped skiers and snowboarders (in the middle of the intersection) in order to get to Matteo who was waiting for me. I had a clear shot, but someone came into my view heading straight toward me, lightly ran into me, and caused me to swerve and run into 3 more guys (one of whom fell down--oops). It was like a domino effect. So of course I apologized to the people I had run into and checked to see if they were ok, and I looked back at the guy who had cut me off and he gave me a simple "scusami" ("sorry"). The other two times were when I was almost completely stopped at the bottom of a slope and someone else ran into me and knocked me off balance since I wasn't expecting to have an extra force coming in behind  me.

View coming down the mountain at the end of the day.

So needless to say, my muscles are REALLY sore today. But it was definitely worth it! It was so much fun to snowboard again, AND I finally learned how to use my toe edge (at least on reasonably flat surfaces where I don't get too much speed), and I successfully navigated my way and kept my velocity up on a flatter and very narrow course. Usually I fail miserably when I have to use my toe edge on a flat surface because I always over- or under- compensate and catch it in the snow and therefore fall on my face. And I've consistently noticed that as soon as the idea of doubt enters my head, I wobble, catch an edge, and usually fall. Then I can't stop thinking "Wow, that sucked. I can't use my toe edge. Ok I'll try one more time. I'm doing it! No no, don't catch in the snow please...I'm going to fall... I really don't want to fall right now...oh no, I'm falling!" So yesterday, even after getting plowed into from behind a couple times, I decided that I wasn't going to lose my confidence. I had attempted using my toe edge when no one else was around and I had been successful, so why shouldn't I be able to use it when people were around? So I did, and I was able to keep control of my board and then do it again because I had built my confidence up.

Honestly, I think this confidence stemmed from my newfound confidence in myself generally. This past November and December, I somehow had lost a lot of my personal and social confidence and I didn't know how to get it back. I hadn't felt like that since Elementary School when I worried what people thought of me and whether people liked me. But what helped me turn that mindset around was seeing Tarn and Maygol: two of my best friends who know me completely and who love me unconditionally. It was the exact medicine I needed: to be surrounded for 4 weeks by people who I KNEW cared about me no matter what I said or did. Don't get me wrong: I absolutely love meeting new people and making new friends, and I've been so lucky to meet such amazing people this year! But it's hard to find that complete comfort that comes with being with a best friend because that has to come with time. And so after I did well on all 3 of my finals, started an internship that I really enjoy, figured out my class schedule for the semester, and continued tutoring and babysitting once a week, I finally have my confidence back. I'm now living MY life here in Bologna and I feel grounded. I'm confident in my Italian-speaking capabilities, I understand my classes, I'm getting to know people in my program better, and I'm truly enjoying myself.

I'm excited for Spring to fully arrive and I have a birthday-weekend trip planned with Allison and one of her friends to Cinque Terre, I have my life here in Bologna to keep me busy, and I will be back in sunny California on June 17th. I have a lot to look forward to and a lot of amazing experiences to look back on. So I'll be making the best of these next 4 months and attempt to keep you all apprised of my continued adventure.

The Beginning of My Christmas Vacation: Stockholm

After my Dante final, I started my winter vacation by going to Stockholm the following weekend. I still had a week of class when I returned, but my brain was more than happy to start its vacation on December 9th by visiting some very good family friends in Sweden: Kristina, Veronika, and Margrete Aspvall.

Friday, December 9th:
• I took a Ryanair flight to London Stansted and when I landed I had an hour and a half to catch my next Ryanair flight to Stockholm. So I rushed down the longest hallway in the world to passport control, hightailed it through the baggage claim area (I only had a carry-on), checked in at the Ryanair desk, and quickly made it through security...all in 20 minutes. My gate number wasn't even on the board yet, so I had a little time for a delicious veggie and hummus sandwich and a cup of tea for my momentary stop in England.
• I made it to Stockholm and hopped on a bus for the 45-minute ride into the center of Stockholm, where I was met by Kristina and Margrete. Veronika came to Kristina's apartment later that evening, and the 4 of us girls quickly caught up on each others' busy lives.

The path through a park to Kristina's apartment.

Saturday, December 10th:
• The four of us took the metro into downtown Stockholm where we wandered around Gamla Stan (the "old town"), avoided a protest and the police, marveled at Christmas decorations in store windows, enjoyed cups of tea and sandwiches for lunch, took an elevator up the tallest tower to get a view of Stockholm, and stuffed ourselves with an all-you-can-eat buffet of Chinese and Japanese food for dinner. After such a satisfying dinner, we practically rolled ourselves back to Kristina's apartment.

Gamla Stan

Santa wrapping presents in a store window.

Tea and Sandwiches with Veronika, Kristina, and Margrete (from left to right).

The lovely sisters at the top of the tower.

Chinese/Japanese buffet dinner.

Sunday, December 11th:
• My last full day in Stockholm, we visited the Vasa Museum. It was the perfect day to spend indoors since it was cold (0 degrees Celsius) and windy. I had visited the Vasa Museum when I was 9 years old with my family, but of course I didn't remember too much of it. The Vasa ship was a Swedish warship build in the 1620s, and on its maiden voyage it set sail from Stockholm, but didn't even make it out of the harbor. Two "big" gusts of wind blew it over on its side and it sank because it was too top-heavy and it didn't have an adequate volume below the waterline. It was finally re-discovered and salvaged in 1961, and the museum was built with the massive hull as the central exhibit.
• That evening, Kristina made us a lovely dinner of Swedish meatballs with mashed potatoes, and I was in heaven. I had been steadily growing tired of eating pasta almost every day, at least once a day, so some homemade Swedish food was quite welcome!

Me with the Vasa ship.

A stroll after the museum.

Ok, ok, Stockholm is gorgeous I guess...

Monday, December 12th:
• Veronika and Margrete had left Sunday evening to get back to work and school, so Monday morning I slept in while Kristina went to her class. It was so nice to just relax at the apartment before Kristina took me to the airport.
• This time, my flight was much more direct than going from Bologna to London to Stockholm. This time, I was on an SAS flight (with much more leg room than Ryanair!), I had one layover in Copenhagen, and I made it back to Bologna without having to rush through any airports.

I noticed one huge difference coming back after this trip that I hadn't felt before: I felt like I was coming home. I didn't feel anxious about getting back into speaking Italian and I didn't feel like I was walking up the steps to "the apartment I live in." I felt just as relaxed being back in Bologna as I had all weekend speaking English in Stockholm, and I was coming back to my apartment after a lovely vacation.

One Final Down...Two to Go!

Thanksgiving gave way to intense study-mode. I had my first Italian oral final for my Dante class on December 5th and leading up to it there was a lot of translating, many cappuccini in cafes, and decent doses of stress. I generally knew what I would be tested on: Dante's Divine Comedy...which really narrows it down. For a foreign student like myself, the professor required that I know about 5 or 6 chosen "canti" from each book (Inferno, Purgatorio, and Paradiso). The most difficult task for me was understanding the story and all the references in English, and then preparing to talk about it in Italian. Dante's work is hard enough for Italian students to understand, and here I was trying to make the big picture comprehensible in English first and foremost and then learning the back-stories to many of the references, knowing I'd need to talk about everything in Italian.

Fortunately, I had the help of a wonderful Italian woman interning at our Study Center who was studying Dante. She held weekly seminars for all of us Californians in the class where she went through and explained the big picture and pointed out the significance of the tiniest details (in Italian). She gave us the ability to figure out how to study for the final--she was like our Virgil; the guide for our own journey through the hell of studying.

When the fateful day arrived, I felt like I was prepared in terms of knowing the material...but in English. Typically I try not to study the morning of the day of the test, but since my appointment wasn't until 2pm, I woke up at a reasonable time and studied/translated my notes into Italian for 3 hours beforehand. When I arrived at my professor's office at 2pm, along with the 3 other students waiting to take the final at that time, I knew I'd have to wait about 15-30 minutes for each student before me to disappear into the professor's office to take their final. What I didn't expect was that the professor took 45 minutes with each of the 3 students before me, plus allowed 2 additional students talk to him for office hours for another class. By the time it was my turn, I had been waiting outside his office for 2 hours and 45 minutes. The first 2 hours were good study time: I needed that extra time to solidify some details in my mind and figure out how to express myself in Italian. But the last 45 minutes were torture. I became increasingly nervous as time dragged on even though I felt more prepared. I've never been good at simply waiting because the anticipation ends up getting to me. There's only so long that I can stay relaxed and focused before taking my first oral final in Italian.

Finally it was my turn to go into the professor's office and talk with him about Dante. He was good at easing my nervousness (especially after I told him I was nervous) because he made it more like a conversation. He first asked me questions about where I went to school in California, if I've ever taken a Dante class before, and why I have an Italian last name. Then he had me talk about specific lines from Dante and I felt like I was answering all of his questions fully and with as much detail as he'd allow me to before he would cut me off and turn to another few lines for me to analyze. The very last question he asked me was to list, in order, the 7 levels of Purgatory (the 7 deadly sins). Well, seeing as I barely know them in English, and I hadn't memorized such a basic thing since I focused my studying on the more obscure details in Dante's writing, I started fumbling over my words and I couldn't answer his question. A pit in my stomach immediately formed when he started saying things such as "This is a really basic thing, and if you don't know it, then I have to question how much you actually know. You won't be getting a good grade if you can't answer a question like that, but remember you can always retake the exam in January." I was SO scared he was going to fail me and I'd be so ashamed and I did not want to have to study all that material again for January. And just as my brain was really starting to freak out, he asked if I would be ok with an A-.  Um, YES. I thought when he said "not a good grade" that I'd fail with something lower than a B. But in reality, he had high expectations for everyone and assumed if you don't get an A+, you'd be disappointed. So of course I immediately said "Yes, of course I'll take the A-!" and then I didn't utter a single word (for fear he'd change his mind) while he entered the grade into the computer.

In the end, I'm very pleased with that grade, but the strange thing was that he made me feel bad about "only getting an A-." It took me a day or two to not care that I couldn't answer his last question and to be proud that I got that grade for my first Italian final. It was a good beginning to my month-long vacation I've allowed myself before getting back down to studying for my last 2 finals (in late January and early February).
Stories from Stockholm and Tarn's visit coming soon!