Feelings about leaving (in other words: a post you should skip because it's too sappy)

So, given that my last post was in February, it might seem kind of silly that I'm posting now. However, I've deemed it necessary because today is (basically) my last day in Bologna. I'm not sure if it's the impending doom of leaving that got me up at 7 this morning, or the deathly heat we've been having here for the last week.
Now that I've written that first paragraph I feel particularly stupid because (cliche warning) I really can't put these feelings into words. If this even makes it to my blog it will be a miracle. I'm just going to write down some dumb stuff and make you all read it.
Last year around this time I was packing up my dorm room in Chicago and saying goodbye to family and friends that I wouldn't see for a year. I remember how difficult I thought that was. Tosca and I sat for a long time on my dorm room floor, while she helped me clean up and pack so that we could extend our goodbye as long as possible. My friends gave me the world's coolest card (a page from a book with certain words circled that spelled out a message) and candy in the colors of the Italian flag. Both my parents came to the airport to send me off. My mom snuck a card into my suitcase which I didn't find until the day I moved into my apartment in Bologna. That was a complicated and confusing day and that was the day I needed her support the most. My little siblings diligently talked to me weekly over Skype even though, at age 4 and 3, I'm sure they have other things they'd rather be doing. My mom and brother came to visit me at Christmas, as did Hannah and Tosca at different points during the year. I received two folders worth of letters and postcards from friends and family over the course of this year, and I never ever stopped feeling the love from home. 
This might seem emotional and you're probably sick of reading it, but it's these amazing people and my good memories of them that are making it easier to know that I'm leaving Bologna tomorrow and Italy in a month (for anyone that doesn't know, I'm spending the next month working at a summer camp in Lake Como) Just quickly, to my friends and family back home: I know I like to pretend that I'm some world traveler without a true home and no strings attached, but that is totally just me putting on a brave face because I missed you guys this year more than you could possibly know. And I'm going to need you now more than ever because saying goodbye to the people here is a whole different beast.
Those goodbyes last year were difficult, yes, but also somewhat simple in the sense that most people I was leaving behind I would see again in 10 months, 11 months, a year. Leaving Bologna is weird because the time until I see these people again is completely undetermined and quite possibly infinite. So goodbyes are complicated, because what do you even say to all these people that became your family in less than a year? I feel like in the past I've said that I hate goodbyes because they are sad and I don't deal with sad very well (but who does?) This round of goodbyes is sad, sure, but it's also more complicated than just "goodbye, I'll miss you." I think that's an element of this experience that I didn't expect, and I'm sure lots of people can relate.
Last night my roommate said to me "sicuramente è un'esperienza che cambia la vita" (it's definitely a life-changing experience.) Countless other people have told me the same thing. I can't speak to that because I don't know if I'm changed. How does a person know if they've changed? I think all I know right now is that I got to live in a cool city for a year and meet amazing people and I'm so happy I got to do it. I'm lucky too, to be living in the 21st century, where computers and cellphones make communication just that much faster and the world is that much smaller (incidentally, the same technology is what allows me to spread my sappy thoughts worldwide via this blog.)
So yeah, I'm leaving, and a small part of me is devastated but a bigger part of me is just happy and grateful that I got to do this and then the biggest part of me is so freaking pumped for the future.
And you thought this was going to be a sad post.

Bologna, ti voglio proprio bene.
Arrivederci!

A Thing That Happened Today

Ciao Ciao,

I'm going to get my Venice post up soon, but first I just wanted to tell a quick story today about a weird experience I had in class. The moment was so small and insignificant that you all are probably going to think I'm silly for even posting about it.

Instead of my regular contemporary history class this afternoon we had a special lecture given by Arundhati Virmani, an Indian historian who lectured about a historical atlas of India that she created. Besides being a really cool lecture, it was also given in English, because Virmani is not fluent in Italian. (Fair enough, I say, as her book is in French and she already speaks both English and Hindi fluently) So, as you can probably imagine, our professor gave short summaries of the key points in the lecture in Italian after every few minutes or so. I'm sure the constant switching of languages is what caused this super small and seemingly insignificant event.

Part-way through the lecture I looked down and skimmed the notes I had been taking, which as far as I knew, had been completely in English. Besides my usual trouble spelling words like "exercised" and "ideology" I was pleased with my notes. They seemed pretty good for having attended only Italian lectures for a semester-plus. However, one phrase I wrote stood out to me immediately. It goes something like this:

Ideal representations of India 
       --representing territory nella forma of a woman eg. 

As you've all probably noticed, the phrase I wrote starts out in English with the words "representing territory" then switches to Italian at "nella forma," (meaning "in the form") only to switch right back to English with "of a woman."

Weird, right? My brain just decided to switch to another language right in the middle of a sentence. The weirder part? I didn't even notice until a bit afterward.

This occurrence is actually not that uncommon in the reverse. For example, if I'm in an Italian lecture and I don't know how to spell a word, I'll sometimes write it's English equivalent in my notes. This, however, is much more conscious. My brain recognizes the fact that it can't spell the word in Italian and then I consciously decide to write it in English instead.

It's also not that uncommon when I'm speaking. Here in Bologna, especially amongst my American friends, we speak a lot of Ingltano, (pronounced ing-ull-tah-noh) a made-up language that is mostly English but uses Italian insertions. For example, in Italy people say "boh" to signify "I don't know" and it's usually accompanied by a shrug. I use the word "capito" a lot, which means "I get it," and sometimes I'll say "secondo me" which means "according to me." These words have become so second nature to use (even in English conversations) that I sometimes don't notice when I do it anymore.

I don't really know anything about how the brain works and I'm a believer that it's a part of us that we still have a lot to learn about. I just think sub-conscious occurrences like these are weird and cool so I thought I'd share mine with you.  

2 Months, One Post: Family Visits, New Years, and Rome

I last left off with a post about studying. Before Christmas I took 3 out of the 4 exams that I needed to take to finish fall semester. I took the last of the 4 at the end of January, and did fine, despite having caught the Italian flu the week before. So, fall semester? Check! Mixed feelings of relief from being done with oral exams and panic in realizing that I only have one semester left in Bologna.

On December 18th my mom and brother arrived in Bologna. I've realized that having visitors here is great because not only do I get to show off my Italian, but I get to show them around and in the process remind myself what I love so much about Bologna and Italy in general. This can be easy to forget when caught up in the stress of studying and exams, so having my family here around the holidays was very refreshing.

In Bologna, some of the highlights included the Teatro Anatomico, which I discussed in an earlier post, the 7 churches of Santo Stefano, and caffè affogato (espresso poured over gelato) at the Sorbetteria. My mom and brother also climbed Asinelli, the taller of the famous two towers.

I couldn't join them because of some ancient myth that if you climb it while attending the University of Bologna, you will never graduate. Let me be clear: I'm not a superstitious person. In fact, I've stepped on this bad boy more times than I can count:

The University of Chicago seal. The legend goes that if you step on it, you won't graduate in four years. 

I'm not trying to mess with any Italian superstitions, though. Here's Mom and Ollie at a cafe near Santo Stefano:

After a few days in Bologna, we traveled together to the small city of Bolzano. Bolzano is so far north it's almost in Austria, so we got a taste of winter wonderland while we there, which was nice so close to Christmas.

The real attraction of Bolzano, however, was this guy:

Otzi, born circa 3300 BCE (photo from Wikipedia)

Otzi is a prehistoric "natural mummy" who was found all well-preserved in the icy mountain-scape between Italy and Austria. The actual location of his recovery has been largely disputed over the years. He has a whole museum devoted to him in Bolzano, only part of which is the actual mummy. The rest is theories about his death and reconstructions of what his life might have been like. Look at the juxtaposition of Ollie and Otzi right there. That turned out quite nicely.

After Bolzano, it was just Mom and I for Christmas. I'm going to share more about Christmas in Venice with another post. Before that though, Mom and made the pilgrimage up to San Luca, a church in the hills of Bologna. Ecco le foto:

The portico that leads up to San Luca is the longest in the world.

Wow this is getting long! Good thing it's mostly pictures. I hope you aren't tired because we have a ways to go.

I've never been to New Years Eve in Times Square, but I imagine that Bologna matches up pretty well given its size. Piazza Maggiore on New Years was like a mini Times Square, but without the police presence. Everyone was drunk, there was broken glass everywhere, and people were packed in all to get a view of one of Bologna's strangest traditions. Each year, they burn a giant statue that symbolizes the past year as a sort of "out with the old, in with new" kind of thing. This year the statue was of a wind-up monkey, intended to symbolize how as a people in 2012, we were too controlled by society and our surroundings. So, it stands to reason that the robot monkey had to be burned in a huge public demonstration, right?

Video! Guaranteed to make you dizzy!

The rest of January went by very quickly. The new people for BCSP spring semester arrived, which resulted in the rest of us getting all the free dinners that we got the first time around in the fall. I think I've mentioned this before, but when BCSP feeds us, they FEED us. My roommate Monica moved out in order to make room for our other roommate Elisa, who came back from study abroad in Belgium. Monica is still living down the street right now though, so we still see her every so often. I got the Italian flu, which sucked majorly, but I recovered nicely with a 28 (A-) on my lit exam.

Right at the tail-end of January I went to Rome with Noelle and Margaret. I've been to Rome before, on a high-school trip. I loved it then obviously, but it was cool to see these things again without being in an enormous group following a lady with a blue pom-pom on a stick. I'll let the pictures do the talking, but among the highlights for me were the catacombs, the spring-like weather, and the view from the top of St. Peter's.

Fontana Trevi by day

Fontana Trevi by night

Panteone

Oculus

Forum where Caesar was stabbed

It was stray-cat ridden. Noelle almost died.

Colosseo by night.

St. Peter's

Noelle dreams of being as tall as this column!

Look at that holy sunlight! 

Views from on high

Home!

Margaret's not excited

Sunset #1

Sunset #2

Red-carpet celebs, nbd. 

Alla prossima, bella Roma!

Winter Wonderland!

Woke up to snow in Bologna this morning!

Harriett Studies: The most riveting blog post of the year!

Looking back at my blog, I realized I haven't actually clued you all in into what I'm really doing here. The truth is that I'm in Italy to do more than travel and drink wine and eat gelato. I know, I know, those last three things should definitely be enough to satisfy me.

But, I'm still a junior (3rd-year, clueless, whatever you wanna call it) college student. I think this blog might make it seem like the most interesting moments I have here involve some kind of party or weekend travel. Actually, though, one of the coolest (at least I think so) sides of my life happens right here in Bologna, at the university.

Right now, I'm enrolled in 4 classes. Two are taught at the actual university, and the others are through my exchange program, BCSP. The university classes are in Italian literature and Roman history, while the BCSP classes are in advanced grammar and modern European history. It's ended up being a sweet mix of small and huge, as well as familiar and unfamiliar. The BCSP classes tend to be smaller and somewhat more discussion-based, like they would be in Chicago. They run on a similar schedule too, with regular homework assignments and exams.

UniBo classes are completely different. My literature class is probably the largest lecture I've ever been in. Foreign students have to read 3 books to be prepared for the final exam. I'm reading the Inferno (by which I mean I've read maybe 2 cantos), and I'm hoping to read Machiavelli's The Prince and something by Italo Calvino before the final.

Most university courses here culminate in a final exam given orally, with the professor or a TA. This means that you sit down with them and they ask you a bunch of questions about what you've read or heard in lecture. Then they give you a grade on the spot. That grade is your grade for the whole course. Sounds scary right? It is. The good news is that you can take the exams more than once. In fact, most professors offer the exam monthly or bi-monthly, so if you're not happy with your grade the first time, you can re-take it. Phew.

My literature and my Roman history class work roughly the same way. My Roman history lecture is also humongous, but not in reality. The professor speaks very quietly, the hall has bad acoustics, and his microphone breaks at least once per class, at which point one of us has to run and get the technician from next door to come fix it. As a result of all this, a good half to two-thirds of the students stopped coming to class. But, little nerdy Harriett went diligently to class every day, a method that seemed to reap little reward at first. However, the professor finished talking about Roman history about 3 weeks before the scheduled end of the course. Christianity invaded, the Empire crumbled, the Medieval age had begun. There was nothing left to talk about. So, on Tuesday, the professor turned the collapsing Empire into a democracy and asked us if we would like to end the course the following day. Obviously everyone raised their hands. This is the point where my attendance paid off. The professor took down the names of everyone who had been in regular attendance, and indicated that our attention through all his whispering lectures would be rewarded in the exam.

I told you, riveting.

As terribly exciting as I'm sure it's been to read all about my academic life in Bologna, I should go study for these rapidly approaching final exams. Wish me luck!

Thanks

Ciao tutti,

I hope the month of November has been treating everyone nicely.

In the US of A today is Thanksgiving. Now that I've been here for almost 3 months, I realized it's time for a few thank you's, and today is exactly the perfect day for that.

Last night, I was at a birthday party for my friend Orsolya (try pronouncing that, I dare you.) I met Orshi because she is my American friend Noelle's roommate. Orshi is Hungarian, and the one gift she asked for was a recipe from every person at the party. This turned out to be an excellent idea, because the invitees included Hungarians, Italians, Americans, and even one Japanese girl. So, Orshi's going to leave Italy with a book full of international recipes. That's pretty cool.

Anyways, on with the story. Before heading over to the party, I was trying to figure out what kind of recipe to give Orshi. I don't really cook, and the a lot of the meals I eat regularly in my apartment I learned to cook from my roommate Monica (Thank you, Monica. That's one down!) I tried for a long time to think of something American that I know how to cook. I ended up going with the fluffer-nutter sandwich. I have no idea if Orshi will ever find marshmallow fluff or peanut butter in Europe, but all of this is besides the point.

The point is that ever since coming here, being an American has slowly become more and more important to me. It never mattered that I was an American in the past. I would occasionally get a few patriotic butterflies on holidays like 4th of July but truthfully I never really considered that my nationality could be such a huge part of who I am. Now that I'm here and I regularly meet people from all over the world, my American-ness is the one thing that defines me in their eyes. Just as I think of Orshi as "my Hungarian friend," others probably think of me as their "American friend," (or possibly as "that girl whose name starts with an H so we can't pronounce it.")

I think it's crazy that it took me leaving the country to become aware of my own nationality. Especially on a day like today, where it's a major holiday there but it isn't here, I've been thinking a lot about how much I've started owning, caring about, and occasionally even defending my nationality since I've been here. I might not be proud to be an American every day, but in the end, I'm grateful, and I just thought that today, I should say that.

But let me rewind a little bit. I probably wouldn't be here, experiencing this cheesy, sentimental moment with out the support of my family. So! Mom, Dad, thank you guys so much for making this happen. And to the rest of my American friends and family, especially any of you that helped convince me that this was a really good idea, thank you! And of course, to all my friends and roommates in Bologna, who treat me like family even though we are so totally not related, thank you too.

I hope anyone that reads this has a really good day today. I know I will. Our program is hosting a supposedly traditional Thanksgiving dinner at a fancy restaurant in Bologna. Hopefully you'll see some pictures from it on this blog in the near future.

Alright, last one, I swear. Thanks for reading this if you did.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Trieste

Guess what? I'm still alive! I haven't been run over by a Vespa yet! (I consider this to be my most likely form of death while I'm here.) I know it's been a while since I've been in the blogo-sphere, but it's for good reason. I've been really busy (in a good way.)  I've taken a number of weekend trips, plus classes have really started to pick up. I'll probably write more about all that later. Right now, I'm going to talk about my recent trip to Trieste, which is what inspired me to write another post after such a long hiatus.

Geography lesson. Trieste is here:

It's not even in the boot. It's pretty much directly across the Adriatic from Venice, and I think there are actually ferries that run between the two cities. (We took the train.) Since Trieste is so close to the border of Slovenia, there's a lot of Slavic influence, and it also has a history of belonging to the Hapsburg Empire in Austria. So, it's a pretty unique place. For example, a lot of restaurants serve traditional Italian dishes as well as Hungarian goulash and German sausage.

We decided to go to Trieste (the "we" being me and 4 other American girls) because we had a long weekend, and we found a really decent-looking hostel there. However, in the days leading up to our trip, I checked the weather forecast, which of course was 90% chance of rain. So, I wore my fleece jacket and wool socks and packed a hat and two scarves. My roommates warned me of the high winds in Trieste and wished me luck. Evidently it's not a popular destination in November.

I don't know whether we got lucky or if the bad weather in Trieste was just hype, but it was super sunny and beautiful! If you don't believe me look at these pictures:

Mom look! Rowers!

In Trieste we saw two castles. The first, Castello di San Giusto, was situated on a hill overlooking the city and provided some excellent views of the city like this:

San Giusto also had a museum of war photography artificats and that Noelle (my fellow History major) and I spent a long time looking at. You can also see the ruins from the Roman city of Tergeste:

The second castle, Castello Miramare, was right on the sea. It was originally built for the Hapsburg archduke and later emperor of Mexico Maximilian and his wife, Charlotte. Awesome history aside,  these guys had some sweet digs.

Another highlight of this trip had to be the food. For lunch on Saturday I split the "Piatto di Buongusti" (Plate of good tastes) with Margaret. Somewhere this is documented, but it had a mix of Italian classics like gnocchi and polenta with Hungarian and German dishes like goulash and sauerkraut. Awesome!

One more picture of the water.

And this cat riding a motorcycle.

And this dog in a bandana. 

 
Okay. Over and out.