First Impressions of Italia

I’m finally starting to feel settled. The first few days here were a little rough because of some culture shock, homesickness, and exhaustion from being jetlagged. When we first moved into our apartment, some things just didn’t feel right. Everything in the apartment felt so foreign. It wasn’t easy learning how to operate the washing machine, dealing without heat for 14 hours a day, and realizing that we can’t run the stove, hair dryer, or washing machine at the same time without blowing a fuse. Even going across the street to buy a few things at the little shops was extremely difficult.

Actually, that night we first bought groceries without knowing any Italian was probably the most frustrating experience I’ve had here so far. Because the shops were so small, everything we needed was behind a counter and we had to order everything in Italian. We had a terrible time communicating with the owners. After we figured out how to order half a kilo of prosciutto and cheese, we were starving and decided to visit the pizzeria to pick up a couple of slices to eat at home. We thought it would be quick and easy, but it was impossible to understand anything the owners tried to tell us in Italian. Who knew ordering pizza off of a menu would be so difficult! We ended up ordering one thing and getting something completely different than what we thought. On the way home, I was in a terrible mood. I was exhausted from traveling, getting lost in Macerata, and being unable to express myself in Italian.

Most of my initial concerns—navigating, cooking, bad roommates, living in a rundown apartment, not fitting in with the other students, and no internet in the apartment—have vanished. It’s a relief to live in a nice apartment, with lots of space, and a great roommate. Besides being history majors, we have so much in common and I think we’ll become really close by the end of this semester. We’ve already been through so much together.

The first few days in our apartment was somewhat of an adjustment. The apartment is a big, bright yellow building with green shutters and elegant balconies. It’s at least a century old, with vaulted ceilings and huge windows. Filiberto and Angelica told us that it used to be for upper-middle class Italians living in the 1900s. At first, it seemed empty and eerily quiet, probably because I’m so accustomed to dorm-life and always having people around. Rai and I have to walk 10 or 15 minutes to get everywhere, but we enjoy it (though it will be much more pleasant when it starts to warm up). Only after I cooked my first few meals and did the laundry did it finally sink in that this will be my home for the next 3 months. My family will be pleased to know that in the past few days, I have cooked two pasta dishes that actually turned out really well, especially considering my challenges at being domestic. Everything we make is made of the freshest ingredients. A few nights ago we made a great pasta dish with tomato sauce, fresh zucchini, onions, garlic, asiago cheese, red peppers, herbs, and chicken.

Though there are times I really miss everyone at home, I’m happy to be here. Everything seems to be falling into place and I’m ready to start soaking up all of the Italian history I can before it’s time to return home.

30+ Hours of Trains, Planes, and Automobiles!

It has been extremely hard to sit down and write this first entry from Italy. Even though we have only been in Italy for about 48 hours, a week’s worth of events have taken place. Flying to Italy was smooth sailing from Detroit, to Atlanta, to Rome, and finally to Ancona—a smaller city not far from Macerata. The airport in Rome was Rai and I’s first challenge to communicate with Italians. We wanted to order sandwiches for lunch and no one behind counter could speak English. This was quite a surprise because we assumed most people knew at least some English in larger cities like Rome. As it turned out, I was a little too optimistic about how many Italians would speak English. After my fourth day in Italy, I’m just now realizing how impossible it is to survive in Macerata without knowing more than 10 words in Italian. Learning this the hard way has been frustrating and emotionally draining.

Anyway, when we landed in Ancona’s tiny airport, we checked the flight status of the other two American girls in the AHA program flying into Ancona. Luckily their flight was exactly on-time and it only took two minutes for us to find each other and meet for the first time. It was a relief to meet them. Unfortunately, each of us had very little knowledge of any Italian. The plan in our instructions from AHA International was to hop on a bus to take us from the airport to the train station. Then we were supposed to take a train from Ancona to Civitanova, change trains, and take a train directly to Macerata.

That’s what was supposed to happen. Here’s what actually happened.
We checked the bus schedule. The next bus to the train station wouldn’t come for another hour. A different bus showed up, and when we tried to speak English to the bus driver, we quickly found out he knew absolutely none. Luckily, a woman happened to overhear us as she walked by and asked in English if we needed help. We told her where we needed to go and she said that we could board the next bus in 10 minutes and it would take us “just down the road” and drop us off where the bus to the train station would pick us up. Well, the bus drove us “just down the road” at least 10 miles into the Ancona and dropped us off in the middle of the city. We had no idea where we were. On top of that, the bus stop for the actual bus we needed was not in the same location we got dropped off. Every street sign was in Italian and we didn’t know the symbol for “bus.”
We found where we were supposed to wait by asking at least three Italian strangers who knew a tiny bit of English. Our bus drove up and to double check if it would stop at the train station, I ran up to the driver to ask him before getting on. As soon as the words came out of my mouth, he looked at me, shook his head, slammed the door, and drove off.

When the second bus came, we knew this time that we had to get on it very quickly or it would just take off. Keep in mind that each of us was bogged down by our 60-100 pound luggage this entire time and every time we boarded a train or bus, we risked someone getting left behind. We were successful in getting on the bus, but once we were on it, we realized that we were supposed to buy a bus ticket before. None of us had exact change so I went up to the driver to pay cash. He told us we were supposed to use the machine to get a ticket. I apologized and tried to give him €10 for all 4 of us even though we owed him €8. He discreetly said to us not to worry. We were so relieved.

After we arrived at the bus station, we had to purchase 4 tickets for Macerata. The man in the ticket booth of course didn’t speak any English. He said something to us about getting on a train to San Benetto. We assumed he meant we should get off at the San Benetto stop and then catch a train to Macerata. Once we got our tickets, we realized that they didn’t say what platform to get on. We had to check a kiosk for the information. When we finally found the platform and stood next to other Italians who needed the same train. Well, the train zoomed by and stopped probably 30 feet from where we were standing. We had run with all of our suitcases in order to get on. When we got to the doors, everyone was pushing in front of us to board the train first (typical of most Italians). I pushed my way through and got on the train first. Emily, Diana and Rai were all caught in the mass of Italians on the platform. We started shouting at them to let us go first because we couldn’t get separated.

When all four of us, our hearts pounding, had successfully got on the train right before it started moving we collapsed in the seats. All we knew was that we had to get off at the San Benetto stop. We talked to a couple of women who spoke a few words of English and they confirmed this. We could relax until San Benetto… or so we thought.

Along the way, the train stopped in Civitanova, the same train stop mentioned in our instructions from AHA. We decided to disregard it and trust the man in the ticket booth and the women who talked to us on the train and didn’t get off at Civitanova. By this time, it was 3:15pm and we were supposed to get there for orientation at 3:30pm. I called Filiberto to tell him what happened, but his secretary, who couldn’t understand my English, answered. She told me to call Filiberto back in a few minutes. When I did, he said that we were supposed to get off at Civitanova and now we had to get off our train, and get on another one to back-track to Civitanova. At this point, we were absolutely exhausted and dazed. When we got to Civitanova, the next train to Macerata didn’t leave for another hour. We decided to take a bus to get there instead.

We arrived in Macerata at about 5:30, 2 hours after orientation had started. At that point, we dropped our things off at the hostel, and met the rest of the group that had arrived earlier. After that, we had dinner around 9:00pm. It lasted until about 11:00pm because it was a 5 course meal. First they served us pasta, then a chicken and potato dish, then salad, and finally some fruit for dessert. The food was excellent, but after 30 + hour day, we were all practically falling asleep in our plates.

Now that we’ve been here a few days, Macerata is beginning to feel like home. We moved into our apartment two days ago. Filiberto has taken us on at least 5 walking tours of Macerata so that we can get familiarized with the city. It’s much bigger than I had expected. All of the streets within the walls are winding, narrow, and made of cobblestone (making it very easy to get lost). Most of the streets are on an incline because Macerata is on a hill. We found out that the city was established in the 12th century and has a population of 3,000 within the walls. From outside the walls, the city looks like a castle. The main gates are completely intact. The walls have now been incorporated into the houses and many of the houses, like our apartment, are hundreds of years old. You can see the Apennines in the distance on a clear day. It’s a beautiful city, with so much history. At first it felt so surreal because I’ve never been in a place like this before but its beginning to feel more natural.

I have so much more to say but I have to wake up early for my first Italian class tomorrow at 8:30. More entries to come soon!

Butterflies in My Stomach

I can hardly believe it's January 10, two days away from the the moment I've been planning and preparing for over the course of a year! It finally hit me yesterday when I said farewell to some close friends and family. Ever since, it's been quite an emotional roller coaster. One minute I'm calm, collected, and feeling prepared. The next minute, I'm panicking, realizing that my knowledge of Italian is virtually nonexistent other than a few words, and wondering how I will survive for 3 long months without Devin (my boyfriend and best friend of 6 years).

I will be living and studying in Macerata with other American students for the winter semester. Macerata is a small, medieval walled city, northwest of Rome. Our institute is linked to an Italian university established in 1290.

Luckily, I have some experience traveling internationally. Two summers ago, I spent a month teaching and volunteering at an elementary school in rural India. It was my first time traveling abroad without an adult. I can hardly believe I was brave enough to take that first step by going to literally the opposite side of the world. Not to mention the amenities where I was staying in India were extremely basic, and I had to really rough it for 4 weeks without access to flushing toilets and running water during the day. After that experience in mind, I feel that 3 months in Italy won't be so bad.

Actually, I know that studying in Italy will be probably one of the most incredible experiences of my life. What a wonderful opportunity to truly immerse myself in a different culture, to pick up a foreign language by speaking it daily to survive, and to surround myself with some of the world's richest history. Spending 3 months in Italy, the cradle of Western civilization, is a dream of any history major. I just completed my independent study on women in Western Europe during the 4th and 5th centuries, when Christianity was becoming a united religion. I can't wait to see those historical people and places I studied come alive. I also hope this trip will inspire ideas for future research projects, like my senior thesis--possibly even doctoral research many years down the line.

Though it will be challenging at times, I have so much to look forward to. I'm so thankful for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and I hope to make the best of it. My flight leaves at 10:30 on Tuesday morning. 35 more hours! As my departure gets closer, the butterflies in my stomach become more frequent--but I can't wait to begin another adventure!