Monday's Class: Interviews.

"Start paying someone for what they love, and it becomes work."
My Psychology teacher told me this last semester.  For some, this statement makes sense - for others, not so much.  What she meant, was that sometimes an individual loses joy in what he or she likes, or even loves, when authority forces that interest upon that person.  This shines true for many:  future lawyers may cringe at taking the LSATS; future psychologists might dislike memorizing aged theories; future teachers may procrastinate their volunteer work; and so on.  But really, it's not that the person dislikes this work - they dislike that someone is saying, "This is what you have to do, by this time, with these results."

As a journalism major, I am, too, sometimes faced with the same issue, being forced to write/rewrite/edit papers I have little interest in.  But recently, there came a light at the end of an academic tunnel.  I lucked out in one of my abroad courses - a Travel Writing course - where I get to blog about my experiences of traveling and interacting with the Italian culture.  And, because I already have a blog, the coursework couldn't be more fitting (or fun, for that matter).
But the coolest thing about this course: American students are mixed with English-speaking-Italian students.  Need I say more?

Yesterday, we paired up (one American to one Italian) to discuss our impressions of the two different cultures.  My first original thought was, "Oh great - here come the 'fast-food-overweight-American' stereotypes".  Then again, I suppose they were thinking, "Oh great - here come the 'wine-loving-Italian' stereotypes".  However, my questions were slightly different.  And so were theirs.

"What are those things?"  Michele, a 16-year-old boy here, used hand gestures to ask me what "cut-off-pants" are.  "You mean shorts?" I asked, puzzled.  "Yes.  It's very confusing to me.  I see people wearing those, but it's cold outside!"
It's funny -  Northern Italy days in January are around 40 degrees fahrenheit.  Very chilly to Italians, yet, almost paradise to the brutal Midwest winters Iowan's are used to.  However, I am not so sure shorts can be justified when breath is still visible outside.
"It's crazy," Michele continued, "no Italians wear those."
On the clothing topic, I figured I could contribute what I know of Italian fashion: Diesel jeans, the designer jeans that originate in Italy.  I happened to get my boyfriend a pair for Christmas this year - they're a pretty solid pair of denim, if you ask me.  Michele was impressed and agreed with my purchase.

But I'm not so sure if Melania, a sweet girl I spoke to, would agree.  She explained how she did not enjoy the fashion scene here; how people often judge if someone is not always looking their best.
"I can always spot Americans at school, because they they wear different things," she explained.  We went on to talk about the lounge-wear; the sweatpants; the "role-out-of-bed" kind of look Americans rock daily. "But that's why I love Americans," she said.

And I love Italians.  Even though I've almost been hit multiple times by their soaring vehicles.  I've noticed these people are typically quite patient; however, they seem to be little speed-demons in their cars.  I truly believe pedestrian walkways are mere embellishments for their pavement.
"There are speed-limits," Stefano laughed at me, "but they are not enforced. Cops don't really care if someone is going really fast around here."

Lawfully, Italians are not allowed to drive until they reach 18 years.  Alcohol, on the other hand, is quite different than the 2l law in America - but I'm sure you were already aware of that.  Kids are legal to buy liquor at age 16 in Italy.  I've certainly taken advantage of this (shhh), getting a glass of Cabernet in nearly every restaurant I sit down in.  Interestingly enough, three of the four kids did not agree with my wine-liking.

Andrea, another 16-year-old boy, was one of the three.  Also, I was surprised how breakfast is not a huge thing with Italians; it happens to be my favorite meal of the day.  Andrea did tell me some of his favorites though:
"I love pizza.  In the summer, I will order pizza with light toppings, like vegetables," he continued, "but in the winter, I will order pizza with french fries on top."
First, I will say one thing: It's pretty cool a 16-year-old boy would even think to coordinate seasons with pizza-toppings.  Secondly, did he say french fries on top of pizza?  Apparently the combination is quite popular in Italy.  Personally, I love Italian pizza - especially with fresh mozzarella, vegetables, and the thin crust (it is always very thin).  I was curious if Andrea had tried American pizza.
"I have, I don't like it," he explained that American pizza was too thick for his liking.  I forgot to give him a high-five for that comment.


And without realizing it, my class was out of time.

Hello, Paderno.

Yes, I'm in Paderno, Italy!  Finally.

But I'll tell you what, the process of getting here was not so easy.  If giving any suggestions to a first-time international traveler, I would stress two things:

1. GET SOME SLEEP.  Nothing sucks worse than surviving a 24 hour (or longer) trip on zero rest.  It leads to delusional perceptions and possessing the devastating look of a drunken streetwalker.

2.  PACK LIGHTLY.  Carrying 100 lbs. of weight on wheels/your back/your shoulders is not only embarrassing, but also a struggle to haul around. I learned this the hard way.

After forgetting my North Face backpack on the plane to Venice (I got it back eventually, no worries) and zoning in and out of a normal mind state, Mike and I eventually made our way to a new continent.  Our first European experience was in Amsterdam.  Overall, I think Amsterdam's airport can be summed up in two categories: chocolate and perfume.  This works for me, being a huge fan of both things.  In fact, I could totally go for the fist-sized blocks of dark, white, and milk chocolate I saw in Amsterdam.  

 But chocolate and perfume can only excite me for so long - eventually, my sleepless night kicks in again, and I can only think of getting to my final destination.  The overlay in Amsterdam began to drag.

And so did the flight to Venice (I can't say I remember any of that plane ride).  Nonetheless, we finally got to Italy - now it was just matter of getting to Paderno del Grappa.  This required walking to several bus and train stations throughout Venice.
Need I remind you again: PACK LIGHTLY.  Unlike America, Italians have little ease in transporting between ground levels.  In other words, Americans are lazy; Italians take the stairs.  And stairs + hauling 5 bags = never again.  Thanks to Mike - and some other super friendly Italian men - we got my bag business taken care of.  And eventually, after the longest rides of my life, we made it to Paderno.

For those unfamiliar, Paderno del Grappa is a small town of 2,000 people, located about 45 miles north of Venice.  However, the small population does not decline the unbeatable atmosphere.  Truly, words do not give justice to this town.  It is the most serene, beautiful place I have ever witnessed in my life:  the campus is bright and lively, but is softened by woodsy greens and high top mountains.  I could not imagine a more wonderful home base for CIMBA (a study abroad program through the University of Iowa).  230 American college students share this area with local Italian students (ranging grades K-12) as it is their private school they attend regularly throughout the year.  It is rewarding to directly interact with the Italian culture on a day-to-day basis. 

But you may wonder, "What's there to do in another small town?"  If you're anything like me, you like to try new things.  And fortunately, this town happens to have great Italian businesses conveniently located around campus - in which, a perfect accommodation for my need of exploration.  There are a couple tabacchis (typically Italian tobacco huts, but they have other goods as well), local pizzerias, clothing shops, bakeries, sandwich markets, and much more.  They also have other activities, from olive picking with the locals to hand-gliding in the mountains.

Overall, life right now... well, it's more than good.


In the mean time, I actually have some studies/readings I need to catch up on.  I am, after all, attending class!  I will leave you with a couple of pictures, but only a couple, because the internet is sort of rusty around here.  Ciao!

Deep, pure espresso.

At a local pizzeria with my roommate, Jolie.

Just a Small Town Girl

At times, I wish I lived in an exciting, ritzy area with unlimited activities to consume my time.  But I don't.  For the majority of my life, I have lived in Sioux City - a town in Iowa of 80,000 people - where going to a movie creates an eventful, fun-packed day.  Growing up, I found the constricted entertainment frustrating and my boredom consistently lingered.  I couldn't wait to move away, go off to college, and enter a new world of excitement.

That is my current standing point: college.  I am a sophomore at the University of Iowa, studying in the School of Journalism.  And, although the population of Iowa City falls behind that of Sioux City's, it still has "hip" elements to make a great college town.  It's quaint with small, trendy businesses surrounded by brick pathways.  It's mostly foot-traffic - I love the pedestrian feel.  And the food, oh my god the food.  I adore the signature sushi rolls at Takanami, and the fresh falafel at Oasis, and the organic produce at The Pioneer Food Coop.  I've been to great poetry readings and amazing concerts (Iron and Wine - go see them) in Iowa City.  I've met fabulous people - the kids in the dorms, the girls in my sorority, and my incredible boyfriend, Mike.  All of which give me great sparks of happiness.

And for holidays,  I come back home to my town.  My town of 80,000 people with a small mall, a movie theatre, and a couple of HyVee grocery stores.  And it's here where I realize why I love life so much.  Not because of Sioux City itself, but because of what it has made me.  To appreciate simplicity.  I love going through every lane at the grocery store, and driving my vehicle through the car wash, and cooking home made meals for my family and friends.  I love old buildings with the paint chipping off the walls and listening to my dad's stories about college.  I love doing my nails with my sister and eating up time with crafty tasks.  In fact, creating this blog has been a treat within itself.  My intentional purpose is to record my upcoming semester living in Europe (yay!) in just a couple short weeks - but I thought I'd give it an early start.  And what better time to start than January 1, 2011?  A new year, a new blog.  Makes sense.

In the mean time, I will continue to enjoy the small things given to me.  Because larger things - European things -  are awaiting in my path.