Life at Luzzago

Last Sunday evening, when my host family picked me up, we left the train station very quickly. In the car, as we drove away from Verona, I soon noticed the different driving practices here in Italy. We flew over speed bumps without slowing down a bit and swung around corners, smooth and fast. The lanes painted on the roads seemed to be taken not as rules, but as suggestions and we flew left or right around any car that dared go even slightly slow in front of us. It felt disconcertingly similar to a roller coaster.

We went to my new home first to drop off my suitcases and so that I could change clothes. Once I'd freshened up, we went out for my first Italian pizza. I got the "Primavera" which had fresh tomato and basil. It was GOOD. Lucrezia (my host sister) got cheese pizza with french fries ON IT, which I've never seen or heard of before. I don't remember what sorts of pizza Giovanni (Lucrezia's boyfriend) and Daniela (my host mother) got, but I do remember that I had some smashing gelato for dessert.

On my first night in my new home I slept very well because I was awfully tired. Lucrezia had to start school Monday morning, but I wasn't starting until Tuesday, so I got to sleep gloriously late. During the day, I went with Daniela to get all the paperwork ready and sent off for my residence permit. I was very jittery and excited for the beginning of classes.

My school, Liceo Scientifico Luzzago, is really great. I've been placed in the fifth and final year of high school here, which is surprising because  I didn't think they ever placed ASF exchange students in this grade. It is supposed to be the most difficult and also they're all intensely studying for the big exit-exams at the end of this year. I'm not concerned much, though. If it is still terribly hard when I learn the language better, I can probably ask to move down in some subjects. The only problem with that would be leaving these classmates. The people in my class are all really nice. They know enough English to help me when I don't understand what's going on, and they help me practice my Italian as well. There are several that I think will become very good friends.

As far as the lessons, at this point I don't know enough Italian to understand more than a few words here and there in most classes. In English, I feel like an expert. We've been watching Dead Poets Society. In Spanish class I can understand some, though Italian and Spanish sound so much alike that it becomes hard to tell when the teacher switches from one to the other. Juggling Spanish AND Italian AND English in my head all at once is very hard. I can hardly handle two languages, let alone three! In math, I feel like I'm supposed to understand more than I do. I think I've covered most of the material before, in math classes at home, but with all the vocabulary and problems in Italian, I still get confused. In the classes like Latin and Italian and History and Physics and such where I can't understand much of anything at all, most of the teachers let me study Italian. I have dictionaries and phrase books and some books intended for teaching Italian children English that seem to be working very well the other way, too. I'm really glad I don't need credits or to be graded for any of this, because while I know the Italian will get ready with time and work, for now I'm struggling.

The school building and the way things work here are quite different from at home. I am in the same room with the same 20 or so students for all my classes, all day. Here, it is the teachers that move from place to place instead. When I was explaining this difference to some of my new friends, they were very impressed. They thought I must feel very grown up to move around my school like a college student. Another difference I've noticed is the way the classroom looks. Unlike at home, the walls here are not covered with inspirational posters or maps or students' work. The walls display only a smart board and a chalk board. There is a crucifix on the upper part of the wall up front and an emergency evacuation plan above the door. In the back, there's a line of hooks for hanging coats. Other than that, the walls are completely bare. The upper halves are painted white and the lower halves pale green. There are no tissues for the students. If you have a cold, you bring your own. There is also no pencil sharpener. Both the classrooms and the hallways are far more clean and tidy than those at my high school back home.

The schedule here is way different. Unfortunately, I must go to school on Saturdays, but it all balances out because the days are much shorter. Mondays, Thursdays, and Fridays I get out at 2. Tuesdays and Wednesdays, I'm finished by 1, and on Saturdays I only have to go until 12.

The entry hall is probably the most impressive part of Luzzago. When you walk in, the first thing you see is a GIANT white, green and red Italian flag above the staircase. Going up the stairs every morning, I am always amazed by what I see at the top. There are three marble statues. Two of women and one of a lion, and the ceiling is painted with majestic murals. It is like something out of a museum- so beautiful! It is one of the many things in this new life that consistently makes me pause and say to myself, "Wow. I can't believe this is real. I can't believe I'm in Italy. I am so, so, so lucky!"

 Another thing that always causes this reaction for me is the view from my school's windows. My classroom is only on the second floor so I can just see the sky and the typical red-orange roof of the building across the street, but two stories up, on the 4th and top floor, the view goes on forever out over Brescia. There are roofs and streets and vine-covered walls and courtyards and church steeples and, farther away, the high mountains towering above. Even a castle is visible. On drizzly days like today, the tops of the mountains are covered with clouds. The beauty is breathtaking.

(this doesn't nearly do it justice)

From the website of my school, I could only really gather that there would be stained glass windows in the gym (true) and that I would be taught by monks (only in religion class as it turns out. The main difference in the teachers here is that they're, on average, much younger than at home. I'd say the average age of my teachers is 35. The oldest is 45, at most.). I felt pretty sure that I would like my school, but I had no idea that I would love it as much as I do.

So, now the school aspect is covered up to date. In my next blog entry, I plan to tell you more about my host family and my house and my blossoming social calendar outside of school. It'll be soon. Possibly tomorrow, but I want to finish my first article for the Herald beforehand so it might be a couple of days. Either way, be on the lookout! Ciao!

Hello, Italia

I arrived safely in Italy over a week ago, and now I'm finally getting around to updating this blog. So much has happened, I'm not sure that I can get around to talking about all of it. I suppose I've got to start somewhere, so I'll go from the beginning.

After all those months and months of preparation, I finally got to Italy last Friday. I was exhausted because I hadn't been able to sleep on the plane. I couldn't seem to get comfortable, despite the fact that the plane was quite nice. It had screens in the backs of the seats that played a vast variety of movies and music and also provided the plane's elevation above sea level and speed at all times, which I found interesting.

From the airport, the rest of the America-to-Italy AFS-ers and I took a bus to the orientation site. Orientation took place at a sprawling, maze-like hotel on a high hill overlooking Rome. In this place, different rooms were always sprouting up where I least expected them, like underground beneath the patio. All around were jungle-like gardens. Orientation was absolutely awesome. There were students from many, many countries who, just like me, had just gotten to Italy for the ten month exchange program. I loved hearing all the interesting dialects floating through the air. Luckily for me, we were all speaking English. I was worried that it would be in Italian, but all of us were new to Italian and it turns out that English is the most universal. Almost everyone there spoke or at least understood it, which I found impressive.

The Italian volunteers at the orientation said that the food we had there was not near as good as what we'd get when we got to our host families, because the hotel kitchens had to prepare food for so many people and suffered a bit of quality for quantity. At the time, I had some trouble believing that. I thought the pasta with creamy tomato sauce and mushrooms, and the flavorful sauteed vegetables, the sticks of sausage, and the potato-casserole-quiche-ish thing we had were all great. It turns out, though that they were right. The food I'm having now is far more delicious. I find myself doing my happy-food-dance ALL THE TIME.

One of the most incredible experiences at orientation was the sunset. As it began to get dark Saturday night, some friends and I saw a glimmer of pink and orange sky back behind the trees to the West. We took a few pictures from the patio, then went in search of a higher vantage point. We went up a staircase and found that it opened to the roof. From there we could see the brilliant sunset much better, as well as the vibrant lights of Rome down below. Overhead, the stars were just beginning to shine. It was truly magical.

With that memory, as well as that of the touching End-of-Orientation Ceremony Saturday night, I took a train to Verona with the other AFS-ers going to Brescia. There are something like ten others and they are all super nice, which is good because I'll be spending a lot of time with them this year. I had butterflies in my stomach for the whole train ride because I was finally about to actually meet my new family, which was exciting and intimidating and terrifying and awesome all at the same time. When at last we pulled into the Verona station, I could see my host sister and her boyfriend on a bench waiting. I almost died from the craziness of it. People I'd only ever seen pictures of were actually there, real people. I dragged my suitcase off the train, and from that point on, I was thrust into my astonishing new life, complete with astonishing surprises, beauty, and challenges around every corner.

I'll leave you there for tonight, since I'm quite tired, even though I've still left you a week behind. Something is better than nothing, though. As my first week in Brescia, I will tell you all about it as soon as I can. For now just know that my new life is very, very wonderful.

Airplanes, Goodbyes, and Free Advice

This is going to be a quick post because I am incredibly tired, but things are happening, so I must tell you all about them! This morning I said goodbye to my hometown and to my state for the next ten months. The already emotional situation was amplified by the fact that I've had only two and a half hours of sleep.

 I stayed up until 2 last night and had to wake up at 4:30 in order to leave for the airport at 5:30. My wonderful boyfriend Zac got up early too so that he could see me off. I rode with him to the airport. The whole ride, I was ricocheting madly back and forth between crying and laughing. As each place we passed receded into the distance, my brain thought "Goodbye, neighborhood! Goodbye, Earth Fare where I always get sandwiches! Goodbye this road and that road and everything that wasn't important but is!" in a way that uncannily resembled the monologue I performed earlier this year when I played Emily Webb in Our Town. And on that ride to the airport, everything looked different, because I'm not used to the eerie lighting that hangs in the sky just before sunrise. So, by saying goodbye, I quite literally was seeing it all in a "new light." I really think that leaving for an extended period of time has given me a new appreciation for where I'm from. I realized, but never fully appreciated the beauty of the Carolinas before I had to leave them.

Saying goodbye to my boyfriend was honestly one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life. The whole ride to the airport, he was holding my hand and I hated not wanting to let go, but having to anyway. And when we finally got to security in the airport, and I had to go through, but he couldn't come with me, I cried and sniffled uncontrollably. Zac and I have been dating for six months and I'm completely, totally in love. Ten months of separate-ness, while made easier by Skype, is going to be tough, but we're going to try with everything we've got.

I finally calmed down a bit when I got my hands on a Starbucks, and I was able to remind myself that I AM GOING TO FREAKING ITALY WHICH IS FREAKING COOL. So that helped.  From that point on I focused on getting myself to New York. My family and I were once again flying space-available, and after failing to get on a couple of really full flights to Lagaurdia, we got on one to Washington DC, where the Laguardia flights had much more readily available seats. On the plane ride I napped, which was much-needed and much-enjoyed. During our interlude in DC, we ate at the Five Guys in the airport and it was by far the best not-grilled-by-my-daddy cheeseburger I have ever eaten. I had the realization that food tastes ten zillion times better when you have an emotional experience, cry your eyes out, nap it off, and THEN eat when you wake up. I napped again, but less soundly on our flight to New York, and then we came in a taxi to the Scotts' apartment where we're staying. It felt like 8 pm, but it was really only 3, which was bizarre.

The afternoon turned out to be incredibly fun. We walked all around the area where they live. I smelled fresh lavender, ate homemade pretzels and champagne grapes, discovered a new band, and received a free hug in Union Square Park. At Washington Square Park, I watched a man jump over a row of six people and I sat down for a chat with a few NYU students who had a sign offering "Free Advice." Usually, being the shy, reserved sort of person I am, I'd never sit down with strangers and chat about anything, let alone all my hopes and fears and crazy emotions regarding Italy, but I did. I think my exchange will be wasted if I don't open myself up to experiences like that, conversations with people. And I'm so glad I decided to go ahead and start approaching the world that way NOW, because it turned out to be really refreshing to talk about it all with some sincere, uninvolved strangers. Because the perspective of my mom and dad, family and friends, while extremely important to me, can become so stale. Hearing the same thoughts and perspective over and over starts to not help anymore. The advice and words of new people that I'll probably never see again managed to help a bunch with sorting through how I'm going to handle leaving my family, and maintaining this long-distance relationship, and adjusting to a new country and life and language.

We had dinner at an Italian restaurant and I can't remember what it was called. I'll edit this when I remember. I had Rigatoni in vodka sauce. Afterwards we went across the street for some gelato and I had a small cup of the tiramisu flavor which was absolutely, breathtakingly delicious. I'm trying to keep these flavors all alive in my mind as well as possible so I can do a good comparison later between Italian food in the United States and Italian food in Italy. So, be on the lookout for that post in the future. For now, I really must go to sleep, because I'm about to collapse from exhaustion. Good night!!!

(Me at the Italian restaurant. I still can't remember its name.)

(The view from the restaurant. On the left is Grom, where we had the amazing gelato.)