Poland by way of Florence.

Just spent my week off in Krakow, Poland.  I know what you're thinking... Poland, Michelle?  Really?


No, Poland is totally great.  I'll admit, I too had ideas that it was going to be this sleepy post-communist country, with limited cultural attractions, and I don't know, goats being skinned on the side of the road.  I just had NO idea what to expect, but it ended up being one of the cheapest places I could choose to spend my break-- and so there I was.


I noticed immediately off the plane that the people are just so totally different than Italians.  This might seem quite obvious, but I have been around nothing but Italian culture for two straight months-- so I experienced my own little version of culture shock coming FROM Italy.  The people are bigger, and walk faster, smoke MORE than Italians (if that's possible) and there's just a striking amount of ethnic homogeneity.


Now Poland is part of the EU, but have not yet joined the Eurozone, so they are still using the zloty.  One zloty is about $.35 USD, which is an awkward conversion to get the hang of.  We took the quick train from the airport to the town center for 8 zloty a piece-- working that out, we figured out that it was less than $3, remarkably cheap to accomplish anything, as compared to Florence.


Krakow has the largest indoor mall I have ever seen in Europe.  It's amazing... and I felt right at home.  Apparently, the Poles have welcomed capitalism with open arms-- the McDonald's was right downstairs from the hostel.  Believe it or not, the biggest thing I was excited to see was a to-go coffee place-- I just can't embrace the Italian style of coffee at the bar, in itty bitty cups.  I need my large chai tea latte to-go, please :)


Now, I don't speak a single word of Polish.  I didn't even have the slightest idea how to begin to botch a word, as the alphabet is all different-- but it made absolutely no difference.  Sensing my confusion when spoken to in Polish, everyone I met immediately switched over to English, which they generally spoke very well.  The younger they were, the better the English was, and I never had the slightest bit of trouble paying or ordering at a restaurant.  Interestingly, the biggest language barrier issue I overcame was in the pharmacy, where you must consult with the pharmacist for most things.  I came down with flu-like symptoms mid-week and needed something for it-- but using a series of gestures and broken English I was able to get cold and flu pills, and thus it was a success.


The whole week in Poland combined with my language experiences in Italy really got me reflecting on the world experience of a native English speaker.  I think Americans often have some kind of guilt complex or embarrassment while traveling over being, for the most part, limited to the English language-- but when it comes down to it, being a native English speaker is the most convenient thing you could be for the purposes of traveling the world.  It wasn't an embarrassment thing in Poland that I couldn't speak a word of Polish-- it simply wasn't expected of me.  It wasn't, nor ever will be, imperative that I have a working knowledge of Polish.  It wasn't arrogant of me to go into a store and speak to someone working there in English-- sticking to English in every situation was expected and convenient.


Back in the hostel, I socialized with Australian, Canadian, and English travelers.  Those I met there who were not native English speakers had a good basic knowledge.  English is the language of travel, of meeting people from around the world, of hostels, of business, of pop culture, and of convenience.  


It has made me much more confident in my daily life since returning to Italy.  If I could do everything I needed to-- get medicine in a country where I didn't speak a single word of the language-- then I should surely not be intimidated in situations in a country where I at least speak a little.  Often, I get so tripped up trying to be a perfectionist about what I am about to say in Italian-- double-checking in my mind that the grammar all makes sense, that I'm using the right word, and then trying to anticipate the response-- that I forget to just try to accomplish things.  It's often fairly obvious immediately that I am an American, so the effort in learning Italian is likely appreciated and makes things easier, but it is not altogether expected of me.  At the risk of sounding too arrogant about my status as an American-- I am one, and I enjoy a special status because of it.  There is a pattern of expectation, that for convenience's sake, is OK to reinforce.  They see that I am putting forth the effort to speak Italian well, and that is often enough.  


Anyways, the city of Krakow was great and very cute, and the trip to Auschwitz was one of the most intense experiences.  It's the kind of thing everyone should see for themselves-- just to be there, right where it all happened is a really weird thing.  Surreal and intense.  I'm so glad I got to go.  


Polish food was a welcome break from the pasta dominated diet of Italy-- lots of meat, potatoes, and BEER.  Primarily drinking wine gets old, so massive steins of Zywiec tasted amazing.  Just having huge slabs of beef, pork, or sausage with sides of cabbage was great.  Meat is so expensive back in Florence, almost everything I regularly cook is vegetarian.  Polish food is definitely not.  I loved it.


The end of the week wasn't too exciting, a lot of laying around the hostel sick and trying to recover for a whole day of travel back to Florence.  We had planned to go to Warsaw, but heard from many people it was such a new, rebuilt city that there weren't many things of any importance there left to see.  I enjoyed Krakow, so I was okay with staying there the whole week.  I'll be posting pictures to Facebook soon.


Side note-- Latest development on my Italian residency permit is that I now officially officially have it and never have to go back to that wretched immigration office again (as far as I know).  Yesterday, something as simple-sounding as "going to pick it up" turned into this nearly five-hour miserable ordeal, with people yelling in Italian, being herded around like cattle, and having a massive panic attack when I found out I needed a particular form I had left at home.  The story ended with me running through the streets of Florence to get home and back with the form before my number came up, missing my number, and then relying on the mercy of one clerk to help me before the end of business hours.  I was pouring with sweat, feet badly blistered, and on the verge of tears by the time the whole process ended in me receiving my very official-looking documentation.  Italian bureaucracy is the absolute worst. 

Daily life

It's official; I'm done with my first full week of my normal grad school schedule for the rest of the semester.  I've been here three weeks, but this is the first week we had regular class beyond academic orientation and intensive reading sessions.  At the risk of sounding overconfident, I am way less freaked out/overwhelmed than I thought I would be.  I'm realizing I can do this, I am interested in what's going on, what I'm learning, and honestly, I expect to be very successful.

In some ways, I am being completely masochistic and taking on way more than I actually need to.  Perhaps inappropriately, I moved up to the highest level of the three Italian courses being taught at the British Institute to the JMU students.  I am completely in over my head in some respects, but I have had open communication with program directors about my intense desire to learn and be immersed, and so I have been told this decision makes sense.  I'm putting myself on a completely accelerated course in many ways, and I have agreed to spend two extra hours a week working with the program director's daughter to bring me up to speed with others in the higher level class.  I was essentially offered two complimentary hours a week of private tutoring with a native Italian speaker... and I couldn't pass it up.

When I step back and consider that I did not come here to study Italian language, nor is it essential for my courses, (or, in Florence, really even for daily life) it gives me pause to consider how much time I should really commit to this endeavor.  But then I think, I have one year to live in Italy, one chance to learn a language while it is all around me.  I'm not sure how much I can learn, or how much I can use it when all is said and done, but for right now it's something I just really want to prove to myself I can do.

Anyway, life in Florence has somewhat settled into routine, although nothing is really the same day to day.  I mostly cook for myself, as I find grocery shopping and buying fresh vegetables relatively inexpensive but dining out expensive.  A few of us indulged in one great meal out-- I had a contorno (it's like a 2nd course dish) of tuna with these amazing caramelized onions and mint.  We of course had crostini to start and bottles of wine, so it was a whole production that ended up costing me a pretty penny. But it was so worth it.

In Santo Spirito (the square where I live) I have a vegetable lady and a cheese guy I like to visit.  I decided to continue visiting one produce stand regularly after the woman was very nice and didn't slap my hands when I inadvertently touched the produce-- you don't do that here, as at American farmers' markets.  To those selling their fruits and vegetables at the outdoors stands, their goods are their art, their delicate products, and you are expected to yield to their expertise in which ones they select for you.  If you can speak Italian with them-- and I haven't gotten this far, yet-- they will take so much care as to ask you when you intend on using whatever you are buying, and select each piece accordingly.  You're just supposed to trust them.

When I bought cheese, the man in Santo Spirito took great time to have me sample four or five different cheeses-- some practically the same, just of different ages.  He would give me huge pieces to sample, waiting for my reaction and preferences.  I didn't really know what I was looking for, other than the experience of buying cheese, and so I ended up just arbitarily picking an aged peccorino.  It struck me that he was genuinely concerned that I find just the right cheese, just what I wanted, regardless of how much time he spent talking with me or how many samples he volunteered.  It was patience that I, as an American, was slightly uncomfortable with... I just assumed I was taking up too much of his time or taking too many samples having not yet decided.  But it was as though he was an artist showing his craft, asking for feedback and ensuring he would be a reliable source in the future.  It's all about the relationship.

While it almost sounds like a caricature of Italian life, it isn't presumptuous, cliché, or overdone.  It just is the way you do things, almost by necessity.  I suppose you could go several times a week to the large, impersonal supermarket much further away from home, but it is just usually a more pleasant and convenient experience to communicate within your piazza, and with the people you see almost daily.  I get caffé at the same bar almost everyday, and expect to see the same two or three people there.  It's things like this you appreciate much more when you live someplace, rather than when you are a tourist.  

I went to a film (well really thirteen short films) at the Giornate del Cinema Europeo tonight, which is a large (free!) film festival currently running in Florence.  The subject of the thirteen short films was self-examined German identity, and each short-story projected varying citizen attitudes about welfare-state policies, immigration, globalization, gentrification, bureaucracy and other themes.  It was a look at German identity unlike anything ever found on a postcard or that I had been exposed to, slightly depressing and perhaps pessimistic, but completely fascinating. 


Here is a link to the film festival/description: http://cineuropa.org/film.aspx?documentID=89648 

It's 2:30 in the morning, Santo Spirito is filled with dogs, people yelling and bongo drums as usual, and I am just finishing this glass of Chianti, this long enough blog entry, and this long enough day.  Buonanotte a tutti.

Ciao Firenze.

I arrived in my new city on Tuesday, and it has been a blur of chianti, sleep deprivation, long walks, and broken Italian since then.  I have accomplished a few things: took an early morning run to the outskirts of town, made an ikea trip by city bus, found an excellent aperitivo spot for locals only, learned the €5 bottle of vino rosso from the restaurant across the street is utter crap, and discovered the best kabob in the neighborhood.  I feel guilty every moment I spend in the palazzo taking naps or just hanging out, but I'm already feeling just so comfortable here, and I know Florence will be out there for me to discover all year.  Its a weird feeling, not being rushed to see a million things a day or have my weekends scheduled for me.  They are, for the most part, mine to explore and travel at my own pace.  Its so strange to truly live here.

The palazzo is just as I pictured it, but maybe better.  I have the room right off the square, with a little balcony out onto piazza Santo Spirito.  This square is on the "other side" of the river, meaning we are away from most of the tourist locations and the major churches and attractions.  This might indicate to you that it would be quieter than the other squares, perhaps true during the day-- but at night, our square is where the crazies hang out.  It's not exactly unsafe, police are present and it's very well lit-- it's just loud and filled with all sorts of interesting characters and their bongo drums and dogs.  The square stays very very loud every night of the week until about 4 a.m., then about half an hour later the streets are cleaned and sprayed down, which presents its own set of noises.  The glass from the street trash bins is then separated, so the sounds of breaking glass follows until maybe 6.  Now, I lived in a college undergrad apartment for three years, and even the craziest of those nights cannot compete.  Of one thing I am absolutely certain:  I will be able to live anywhere with any kind of noise after a year of living on Santo Spirito.  Boring podcasts on the ipod have been my method for falling asleep the past few nights.  Definitely an experience.

This next week, I will be in academic orientation sessions, wherein we will discuss summer reading, start Italian classes at the British Institute, and start using the city and EUI library facilities.  We are all very much eager to get into the routine of classes and discussion, and it is very cool to be around other students as interested and excited as I am.  I'm craving a little structure and purpose.  I'm looking forward to settling into a weekly routine as far as where I do my grocery shopping, the time I have to possibly join a gym, and the time I have to explore new places in Florence and beyond.  I haven't taken many pictures yet, but I will, and I'll post them as soon as we get our wireless issues in the palazzo figured out.  We have only been able to use the study room computer all weekend as our laptops require some kind of certificate downloaded by the computer guys...and, as I'm discovering, almost everything in Italy takes just a litttttle bit longer to get accomplished :-P  Ciao a tutti.

Three days to go!

I have been meaning to write a blog entry for a long time now. I have lots of thoughts about leaving, how I will miss people, and how I will miss D.C. This is huge. I pretty much can't wrap my head around what I'm about to do. I guess I'm feeling somewhat in denial about going, because I have three suitcases out in my living room, with nothing in them yet. My room is a wreck and badly needs order before I go. I have no idea if I have half the things I need. I have no idea if I am prepared enough academically. I have no idea what to expect. It's both exciting and terrifying.

For the past three or four months, I have felt that when things have gone weirdly, or just not my way (interpersonally or otherwise), it has been easy to say, "oh, but I'm leaving." It has been so bizarre to just live in this nomadic, in-between state, when where I live, where I work is all just temporary. All summer, I've come to dread the standard at-a-bar introductory questions, because I then feel compelled to explain why I'm just an intern and live with my parents. I'm insecure about that, (I guess) so in a sense, I'm hoping that getting to Italy and getting back to class will renew my sense of purpose and forward motion.

The wonderful thing about this summer (especially lately) has been that I have gotten to see so many of my favorite people. I have realized how truly, truly lucky I am to have such amazing friends. I know they will still be my friends when I come back-- but that's just it, they are the very reason I really believe I am eventually coming back. Something big would have to happen to convince me to stay abroad in the long term. Just tonight I drove down by the national mall, in the city I have called home for 22 years. So corny, but I still get chills every time I see the Washington Monument from the 14th Street Bridge. Especially lit up at night. I just can't imagine my life not in D.C.

I see myself at the completion of my Master's program wanting to bring the knowledge and experience I have gained from a year abroad to a position where I can apply it all to U.S. policy. While I value world understanding and learning about European culture, history, and government for its own sake-- I feel it is acceptable to be ultimately concerned with the take-away applicability of the program to my interests and goals, and my country's interests and goals.

I should say, that while I am there and interacting with European instructors, policymakers, and general citizens, it is my intention to be first and foremost concerned with learning and living the European experience. I don't think being self-aware about my end-game or American orientation on some foreign policy issues at all obstructs or offends that. It will be interesting to see how I will be able to strike a balance between understanding, even taking on European perspectives and championing American interests. I can anticipate reflecting on that a lot as the program progresses. I wonder how my worldview will change.

Three days and counting.

The good, the bad, and the ugly.

The Good

I stayed up much too late last night working on this whole blog thing-- I'm far too much of a perfectionist, and it totally carries over into my social media outlets.  New color scheme, wa wa wee wa.  Needless to say, coffee this morning was a must.  Luckily the postage machine and I got along today, and overall I was pretty productive. I'm in media relations, so the bulk of what I do at my internship is create relationships with newspaper editors all over the country to enhance media placements for my company's clients.  It's mostly phone calls and emails, and I've been working with editors in South Carolina recently.  

Now, I hate to generalize-- but South Carolinians must be the sweetest, most polite, well-mannered example of Southern gentility that exist.  Consistently excellent phone etiquette and thoughtfulness.  I basically just get on the phone and talk about sweet tea and editorial placements with my new BFFs.  Or something like that.  I'm one of those people who is embarrassingly influenced by accents, so pretty soon I am saying "ya'll just give me a ring if I can do anything for ya!" and drawling at about half pace.  Love it.

The Bad

What I really didn't love hearing was that there was a massive Metro collision on the red line this afternoon.  It's interesting, I first got word of it through Twitter, at almost exactly the same time as most major media outlets began running the story and the magnitude of the accident really became clear.  Shocking, sad, insane, maddening-- this accident was a lot of things for me.  But almost more than what happened, is reactions to it that really frustrate me.  

One tweeter: "oh great, first the Holocaust museum shooter, now a metro train wreck in DC. IDK, im having 2nd thoughts about this trip."

The Ugly

The reactions in the tweetosphere were largely ones of great sadness, empathy, and curiosity.  But the feed was notably punctuated by many who had negativity, fear, and mistrust to express about it.   

I feel an odd solidarity with Metro over this.  Maybe it's just that I really, really believe in Metro as an effective, clean, and efficient mass transit system.  I believe in mass transit on a number of levels.  I believe tragedies invariably occur in modern transportation.  I believe mass transit prevents thousands of car accidents and vehicular deaths every year-- and I believe it is ridiculous to claim to revoke all trust in a system that has worked well, without a single customer death, for 27 years.  

Is there an investigation necessary?  Without doubt.  If there is indeed wrongdoing or negligence, should someone be held responsible?  Of course.  Should this be a wake-up call regarding Metro safety?  Yes.  And go ahead and change your museum-visiting schedule if it makes you feel better.  But I'm sorry, if I hear one more talking head or tourist speculating on the ethical implications of WMATA or DC's overall safety in this sad accident (and that's what it is, after all, an accident)...just ugh.  You must realize that hundreds of WMATA employees and Metro Police are the people who will be working to restore convenience for you-- so that you may visit the center of the free world.  

And thousands of Washingtonians will get up tomorrow morning and do what they do everyday- take Metro.  For most locals, the tragedy is striking, but our way of life is important.  I can't help but be so thankful for all those who have worked all evening (and are still working) to do everything they can to simply help people.  The great appreciation I feel for my way of life and the people who hold it together--picking up the pieces when the worst happens-- is far greater than any tangible sense of fear.  I absolutely refuse to be as influenced by fear as many allowed to speak on this tragedy appear to be.  

One particular tweeter hits the nail on the head: "To all DC visitors: This DC-area resident would ride Metro and visit D.C. Holocaust Museum. Tomorrow. They're safe. #metro"

So for the men and women of WMATA, DC Fire and Police, Metro Police, the FBI, Montgomery County Fire and Rescue, EMTs, hospital staff, the victims and their families-- this bud's for you.

Things I love recently.

1. Artomatic.  Alright, for you DC-types, if you haven't made it out to see Artomatic yet, you're missing out.  A month-long art festival, it's free (!!) and consists of nine floors of visual and performing art installations right next to Nationals stadium.  It's open until 1 a.m. on Fridays and Saturdays, and makes for a pretty cool alternative to your standard weekend binge drinking.  Yes, there's beer and wine.  A lot of the artists are around, many have finger food, and from what I saw, there's a lot of Barack Obama-inspired pop art.  If I had lots of money and a big house all my own I would have bought a lottt of art.  It's fun, cultural, yuppie, and easy to get to (right above the Navy Yard metro stop).  You've got until July 5th.

2. The Hangover.  I knew nothing about this movie, hadn't seen a preview, but pure and simple word-of-mouth advertising got me convinced that this movie was the comedy to end all comedies.  Yeah, the plot is pretty formula- think Old School or Superbad, but I thought the cast was perfection, and hello, Bradley Cooper is so good to look at it's unreal.  Vegas, baby.

3. Netflix.  Anyone who is around me for more than a few minutes knows how OBSESSED I have become with updating my Netflix queue.  It's an everyday battle, making the crucial decision of what movie gets the top spot.  I absolutely love it and really the stuff you can watch instantly online is the icing on the cake.  Also, how do they send them out so quick?! I am not being endorsed by Netflix or its affiliates in any way.  

4.  Chipotle.  I think this speaks for itself.  Where have you been all my life?

OH HAY Creigh

Ok-- I'll admit it.  Brace yourself: I didn't vote in the dems' gubernatorial primary today.  This is shocking news, in my world.  What's up, nerd alert.

I planned to, until I realized I'm a huge moron and didn't change my voter registration address in time.  Briefly considered an AM trip to Harrisonburg to vote, but decided that would be beyond drastic and not worth the carbon emissions.  Anyways, I figured a blog would be a good place to put in my two cents.  Oops, two posts old and I'm already bringing my politics into it.

Looks like it's official, Creigh Deeds will be the Virginia Democratic candidate for Governor.  I guess I thought Terry McAuliffe had it solidly in the bag with all the big Democratic powerhouse endorsements, so I too did a bit of a double-take when Deeds snatched up the backing of the Washington Post.  My mis-read of the sitch could be in large part due to the fact that I pretty much drink the Northern Virginia Kool-aid and McAuliffe, a McLean (woo!) guy seemed to dominate my gmail inbox and local median strips.  A businessman, he seemed, in the words of his commercials, cut from the same cloth as Virginia Democrats Warner and Kaine.  But I think Politico has it right:

"In a primary process where only committed activists tend to vote, the endorsement apparently helped give the otherwise obscure Deeds a second look in the vote-rich Washington suburbs and helped bolster his claim that he would be the most electable Democrat in the fall."

Thus my anxiety over not changing my address soon enough was a little relieved.  Suddenly conflicted and increasingly annoyed at the McAuliffe mass emails, I came to terms with yielding to other blue-state Virginians to do the picking.  Deed's moderate appeal statewide is a definite bonus-- this factor can be easily underestimated in the lovely liberal bastion of Northern Virginia.  

I'm just looking to keep Virginia nice and blue da ba dee da ba die.  I'm satisfied with the Deeds pick, and admittedly, I have to read up on him and see what he's all about.  But first, I'm going to change the address on my voter registration...and request that absentee ballot so I get my say in November.

Uno

Determined to start this blogging thing.  Finally got the hang of twitter and "micro-blogging," so I think it's time to go pro.  Ha.

The whole idea is that I can start now and develop the habit so I'll keep up with it when I go to Florence this fall.  I'm not sure exactly what kind of stuff I'll "blog" about, probably my travels and a little political commentary on current EU legislation, stuff like that.  Plus your standard study abroad shenanigans.

That being said, I should be upfront about my romantic notion that I will make this seamless transition into living an Italian life.  That I'll make my way into the trattorias that only locals frequent, speaking flawless Italian and defying the American student stereotype in a city filled with them.  It's a lovely thought, and one that keeps me buying clothing that strikes me as Italian in style (a lot of black, leather, and labels) and watching Italian language films through my netflix.  I'm obsessing a little.  Also, I should admit I just dropped $500 on all three levels of Rosetta Stone.  Omg.

I found out today that my fall semester is actually extended by a week into the winter break.  I bought my plane tickets about a week ago, but I plan on calling up travelocity or Lufthansa or whatever to see if I can change my return flight to stay until the last possible second when they kick me out of the Palazzo and send me kicking and screaming back to the U.S. until January.  But who knows, maybe I'll be ready for some American stuff by then.

Come onnnn August 31st! :)