Tuesday, March 19, 2019

On Italian Culture


   Let's discuss the art of puzzling (puzzle construction) for a moment. There are many different kinds of puzzles, coming in all varieties of shapes, sizes, and challenges. Some are intended for newly born toddlers and others make you miss the days when you were one yourself. Puzzling, I've discovered, also makes an excellent metaphor for visiting a new culture. 

    Say you decided to challenge yourself by putting together a million-piece puzzle. If you only give yourself three days, or even a week to try to figure out this puzzle, you may begin to experience the same anxiety that Democratic and Republican politicians feel when forced to make adult-y decisions together. It's an impossible task. And what little you manage to piece together in that short time, while pleasant to look at, doesn't show you the whole picture. If you give yourself, however, a month, a year, or even longer to put together those millions of pieces, your final product becomes much more complete and much less overwhelming. It may take you quite a long time to find each piece's partner. There may be days when you don't think you'll ever understand what picture those million pieces are going to make. There may be days when those elusive pieces finally fill in the gaps you gave up trying to complete.  But, if you allow yourself the time and the patience to figure it all out, something beautiful is produced. Living in a new culture is quite the same experience. 

   I have only lived in Italy for around two months, but I'd like to think that my short time here has allowed me to complete the top right corner of the Italian-culture puzzle (that's my favorite corner of a puzzle). And I am loving the picture that is beginning to appear.

Disclaimer: I am not an expert on Italian culture, nor are my observations applicable to every single region or person of Italy. These are just things that I have noticed through my young, white, female, American lens, about this culture that I absolutely love and wanted to share with y'all. 

    Italians are an extremely passionate, proud people, on many number of topics, the most important  of which includes their home region and their food. Most Italians will tell you that a "Make Italy Great Again" mantra isn't going to be very popular throughout the country. Instead, you might find a "Make Firenze/ Roma/ Sicily Great Again" phrase instead. There is a strong pride in one's region and a strong distrust, dislike, or even disdain for Italians from other regions of the nation. I find this  fascinating, especially considering that I come from a country that pushes national pride into its children from the first day of pre-school. One thing that unites most of Italy together, however, is their love, and consumption, of food and drink. A regular Florentine day allows time for at least 4-5 meals of various sizes, and a traditional Italian dinner consists of five courses. I am taking a cooking class here (shockingly enough, nothing important has been burned, chopped, or poisoned yet!) and have learned to give the same respect to the art of Italian cuisine that I would to painting or drawing. Each meal, when prepared properly and with passion, is truly a work of art. When paired with the perfect beverage, it will make the tastebuds soar with the angels. 

     I have found Italian, or at least Florentine-Italians, to be quite friendly and welcoming, especially when I try to speak (and usually butcher) their language. They have often stopped their day to patiently help my stumbling tongue figure out a word or phrase. As a woman, I can't smile at people I pass in the street/accidentally make eye contact with, as I would at home, because that generally gets me into trouble. And as with most cities, people here can brush and push past you if you get in their way. But, when personally interacting with people in Italy, I am usually met with an Italian version of Southern Hospitality. There has been more than one instance when my friends and I have received free desserts/ wines/ and other treats from restaurants because the staff took a liking to us (definitely going to miss those free treats when I come home). One downside to such friendliness, according to a few of my Italian friends, is that Italians are generally much less confrontational than is good for them, often looking for a way to skirt around a problem until it gets too bad to ignore.

    My absolute favorite aspect of Italian culture, something that I hope desperately to bring home with me, is the slow, meandering pace of life here. Not very many things are rushed in Italy, (except perhaps their language, which could put any rapper to shame). Dinner is usually a three hour affair at least and one can spend hours upon hours doing nothing but sipping coffee and reading a good novel without feeling an ounce of guilt. As with any wine or cheese, the longer you rest, the better you turn out. 
    As much as I love American culture, there are certain aspects--its push for constant speed, its rewarding of complete burnout, and its guilt-tripping of those at rest-- that I will always despise. My mental health hasn't felt this good in a long while, being less frazzled, worried, and stressed, since living here. A day spent wandering museums, sipping wine, and chatting with a friend is a day well spent. Now granted... a leisurely life-pace can often produce less than desirable results in productivity. Not much gets done around here, as my Florentine friends have often complained. "That is why", they explained, "Italy is so well preserved. It's because no one ever got up enough desire or energy to change anything!"  Yet I still LOVE the idea of existing completely guilt free in rest. Usually back home, the only times I ever truly rest is when my body stops functioning and sickness takes the reigns. How unbelievably toxic to assume that one can only attain happiness and fulfillment if one is working and busy all of the time. (Again, I am speaking from my own perspective and experiences from home, I know that not all of American culture applies). I love it here. Heaven help me when I come back to college with that slow, relaxed Italian mindset. Yikes. 

    Spring break is fast approaching and I will be spending all of next week in Barcelona! You best believe I fully plan to roast on whatever Spanish beach is closest to us. I hope you all are doing well!
Arrivederci, 
      Leah 

P.S. The photos you are about to see have not been altered or photoshopped in any way at all. I'll be honest, when I saw this sunset I kiiinnddaaa had a little bit of tears in my eyes. The sky from San Miniato Church never fails to disappoint. What an honor to see this masterpiece in real-time.











Tuesday, March 12, 2019

Busy Weekends --> Empty Bank

   
     It's definitely been a jam packed few weeks. I accidentally set off the fire alarm in our apartment for the third time (amazing culinary skills right here), visited Switzerland, Slovenia, and Venice, emptied out my bank account, and, most importantly, fell in love.  Honestly, I never really considered love to been in the cards for a good long while, but, after my weekend in Ljubljana, Slovenia, I think it has found it's way back into my heart. Allow me to introduce Bruce. He loves cuddling, gives amazing hugs, and always makes you feel valued always. He's just a big softy. Also.
                               IS HE NOT THE CUTEST DOGGO IN THAT SWEATER???




    There has been a noticeable lack in my life of interactions with dogs lately, so, having a whole weekend to cuddle with one was very much needed for my mental health. People take their dogs everywhere here in Europe. Literally everywhere: in grocery stores, restaurants, clothing stores, banks, museums. In the same way that Europeans and Americans act differently, so do their pets. These pups are SO well behaved it's ridiculous. People let them wander without a leash all the time in the streets and in shops. But I have yet been able to build up the courage to try to pet a European doggo. Apparently Italians think Americans are a tad weird for wanting to pet every doggo they see. It makes us seem like we are obsessed with them, which.... I mean... is not exactly inaccurate...

    Switzerland and Slovenia can now be crossed off my list of places to visit (although they definitely require a second trip if I ever have money again). Both were beautiful in their own way, surrounded on all sides by those massive, majestic Alps. My roommates and I put on our adult-y pants and planned our own weekend trip to Interlaken, Switzerland, specifically for the purpose of paragliding. I emptied my bank account faster than a box of Boston Creme donuts because of that trip; however, to be able to soar over the Alps mountains was an experience I know I'll never forget. There is an age limit of around 60 years for all paragliders. Hopefully I'll be able to glide many more times before then. If you ever get the chance, go paragliding. Seriously... Do it. I also highly recommend a nice relaxing sit alongside the shore of Lake Brienz, which provides a stunning backdrop for you to consider all of the existential questions in your life by.

    Visiting Slovenia, I travelled by myself for the first time since being here which was so nerve-wracking. In Italy, once you leave the touristy areas, most people only speak Italian. I guessed and Google Translated my way through the entire trip, even making a wonderful friend along the way! Her name was Mara and she is now one of my first official Italian friends. We sat next to each other on our first bus from Florence and ended up chilling in a cafe together while waiting for our connecting busses. Despite the fact that she didn't know much English and my Italian was pathetic, we became quick friends (Shoutout to Google-Translate for being the bomb.com). Arriving in Ljubljana, it turned out that I had visited during their "Slovenian Marti Gras", which is basically a cooler version of Halloween. Every year, people from all over gather to celebrate this festival, specifically with the intention of 'scaring away the winter' with their costumes. (Honestly, the weather back home makes me desperate enough to consider bringing this tradition back to the states). Everyone poured into the city square dressed as all manner of creatures: fairies, superman, ninjas, Shrek and Cousin-It looking things (see below for photo evidence). I had a blast watching the festivities with Bruce's WONDERFUL family and stuffing my face with a traditional Slovene donut filled with chocolate fudge and topped with melted chocolate icing for good measure. (Shockingly enough, all my jeans still fit! They're only slightly snug..)

    Now Venice... Venice was beautiful. And apparently still sinking. Officials are working around the clock, our tour guide told us, to try to keep the entire city from becoming Atlantis 2.0, but I guess we will just have to wait and see. It is completely true when they say that getting lost amongst the streets of Venice is the easiest thing a tourist could do there. We wandered for quite a bit through the twists and turns, squeezing in between impossibly thin alleyways and under walkways so short they made me feel like Mrs. Sasquatch. We explored souvenir markets to find the perfect Carnival Masks and also tried pizza as large as our face (it was delicious, in case you were wondering). My favorite part of the day, however, was the gondola ride (and dinner.. that was amazing too). While our gondolier did not serenade us (much to my disappointment), he take us through some of the twisting, watery alleyways of Venice. We were able to get a different perspective of the city that I found quite charming.

    Murano and Burano were both just as alluring as the main island of Venice, if not more so. Burano, a teensy island filled with brightly colored houses of every hue, shade, and value, was a photographer's/artist's/ instagram-model's paradise. Legend has it that fisher-wives used to paint their homes those vibrant colors to make it easier for their husbands who were returning from sea to find their way home. Little did those fisher-wives know that in 2019, tourists from all over the world would be waltzing through every street and alley, hunting for the perfect house to take the most instagram-worthy photo in front of. (I am unashamed to admit that I found a quaint, bright yellow house for my photo-- see below). Hopefully someday I'll be able to return to Burano with some paints and canvas in hand to capture the colors for myself.

   
    While traveling every weekend is a blast, my exhausted body is now looking forward to this upcoming weekend of rest and relaxation in Florence. I'm hoping to go watch Captain Marvel on Saturday (LITERALLY SO EXCITED) and possibly check out more museums and churches. There is an endless supply of them here. That is how I spend most of my days now (when I am not in school, of course), wandering around Florence with my sketchbook, spending a few hours in one church, a few more hours in another. Maybe walking 20,000+ steps a day is the reason why my pants still fit (mostly) after a month and a half of chocolate croissants and pizza. In my upcoming posts, I want to tell whoever is still reading this blog (Hiii Mom and Dad) about the normal Italian day, Italian culture, my classes, and a few interesting phenomena. So... stay tuned

    As much fun Florence is, I do miss home. I hope all ya'll are doing well and surviving the cold!

      Ciao, Ciao,

            Leah


                                                                          Switzerland:





















Slovenia:














Venice: