Ok, so I just barely passed but I'm proud of myself.
I'm really stressed because I'm trying to decide where I'm going to college next year. And it's incredibly difficult to think about college when I'm here.
So, yeah, I'm trying to figure that out. I'm trying to take care of myself - mind / body / spirit - all that. I'm trying to be happy. I'm trying to learn Italian. I'm doing a lot. I wish I could elaborate. I can't. Love y'all.
Monday, April 8, 2013
Saturday, April 6, 2013
3 am update
Ok so it's really late & I'm exhausted but I wanted to update everyone real quick before I sleep until noon.
1) I just got home from Sara & Letizia & Barbara's 18th birthday party. It was gorgeous. I wore all black. Black dress. Black tights. Black heels. There was a lot of pizza. Like, a lot. Every kind imaginable. One pizza even had an omelet on top of it. Kind of gross. I avoided that one. Anyway, it was beautiful.
2) Also today I went to Pedaso (my host mother's hometown) to deliver groceries to nonna and see the cherry tree blooming event. I can't even begin to explain how incredible the view was. I took a million pictures. I'll add them tomorrow. Promise.
3) On Friday I had my fourth formal Italian lesson. These lessons help sooo much. I feel like I'm finally understanding the logic behind the language. Italian is beginning to make more sense in my mind. I can compare/contrast it to English.
"You can never understand one language until you understand at least two." ‒Geoffrey Willans
That's it for now. Love y'all. Ciao.
1) I just got home from Sara & Letizia & Barbara's 18th birthday party. It was gorgeous. I wore all black. Black dress. Black tights. Black heels. There was a lot of pizza. Like, a lot. Every kind imaginable. One pizza even had an omelet on top of it. Kind of gross. I avoided that one. Anyway, it was beautiful.
2) Also today I went to Pedaso (my host mother's hometown) to deliver groceries to nonna and see the cherry tree blooming event. I can't even begin to explain how incredible the view was. I took a million pictures. I'll add them tomorrow. Promise.
3) On Friday I had my fourth formal Italian lesson. These lessons help sooo much. I feel like I'm finally understanding the logic behind the language. Italian is beginning to make more sense in my mind. I can compare/contrast it to English.
"You can never understand one language until you understand at least two." ‒Geoffrey Willans
That's it for now. Love y'all. Ciao.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
The Case of the Missing Chocolate
Today was extremely difficult slash terrible for many reasons.
First off - spring break ended. First day back at school. Torture.
My host mother wanted me to take the bus but I didn't have any bus tickets so my host father had to drive me. I felt like a nuisance. It's not a good feeling.
I felt extremely nervous//off balance all day. I kept leaving the classroom to get food and wander around. I had absolutely no interest in attending classes today. It's so difficult not to zone out when everyone's speaking in rapid Italian. It takes everything in me to concentrate and listen.
After school everything was normal. I came home at 1:30. Ate lunch. Ok. Fine.
Then there was a huge problem.
I was hanging out in the bedroom, reading Twitter and minding my own business, when suddenly Ludovica and my host mom came in with stern looks. Apparently, Ludovica had brought home some chocolate from the mountain as a present for somebody. She brought home 3 squares and 1 was missing. They asked me if I ate the missing chocolate.
I said no.
They asked again. Then they took me to the fridge to show me where the chocolate was. They asked again and again. They brought up the duck incident (DUCKGATE 2013 NEVER FORGET). They explained how no one else could have possibly eaten the chocolate. Then Ludovica texted her brother and asked him if he knew what had happened and he confessed. Case closed. Mystery solved.
Ok. That's fine. But for whatever reason, it wasn't fine with me. Maybe it was because I had a weird day. Maybe it's because I'm sensitive to the fact that I've been overeating to compensate for feeling alone//off balance//abroad. I don't know. But I just couldn't deal with it. How they didn't believe me. How they didn't take my word for it and trust me. I couldn't handle it.
We left the house to go to the office. I didn't speak the entire car ride. When we arrived at the company I didn't wait for Ludo and my mom to walk with me, I entered the office alone. This was the breaking point. My host mother knew something was up. She confronted me.
"Your mood has changed. One hour ago you were happy, now you are not talking."
"Yes, I'm angry."
"Why?"
"Because I can't live in a place where people don't trust me."
I don't know exactly what was said after that. We had words. She couldn't understand why I was angry. She said it was normal that Ludo asked me about the chocolate. I agreed that part was normal, but persisting the way she did made me uncomfortable and then eventually annoyed and then finally angry.
I went for a walk. As soon as I was alone I started crying - just straight sobbing in the middle of some secluded Italian country road with beautiful villas and olive trees. I called Runa. I called Elena. I cried a lot. It was a very low moment. Then, as I was lying on my back, eyes closed, taking in the sun, I felt a tiny thing come sit down next to me.
It was a dog.
Not just any dog. I know this dog. I've seen him before. He's homeless - I'm sure because he hasn't got a collar and his fur is matted and he smells terrible. But he hangs out near the grocery store where we often go and I've seen him there. Anyway, he seemed to understand how I felt. Dogs are great in that way. They always know.
I spent over an hour just sitting there with that little, homeless dog. Then I decided my "walk" was over and I headed back to the office. The dog followed me but I didn't let him inside. I felt I'd caused enough of a scene for one day.
Even though we had left things on a bad note, I told my host mom about the dog and we had a good laugh. (She remembers the dog because whenever we see him outside the grocery store I always ask if we can take him home. I miss having a dog, sue me.) Then Ludo and I went for manicures. It was as if nothing had happened.
I'm honestly happy that this whole chocolate scandal is over without a long conclusive, closure-y conversation. I don't think anyone wants that. We're a family. There are going to be ups and downs. There are going to be really painful moments but also extremely wonderful moments. I still love them. I hope they still love me. I overreacted.
All that matters at the end of the day is that you chose the right color for your nails.
First off - spring break ended. First day back at school. Torture.
My host mother wanted me to take the bus but I didn't have any bus tickets so my host father had to drive me. I felt like a nuisance. It's not a good feeling.
I felt extremely nervous//off balance all day. I kept leaving the classroom to get food and wander around. I had absolutely no interest in attending classes today. It's so difficult not to zone out when everyone's speaking in rapid Italian. It takes everything in me to concentrate and listen.
After school everything was normal. I came home at 1:30. Ate lunch. Ok. Fine.
Then there was a huge problem.
I was hanging out in the bedroom, reading Twitter and minding my own business, when suddenly Ludovica and my host mom came in with stern looks. Apparently, Ludovica had brought home some chocolate from the mountain as a present for somebody. She brought home 3 squares and 1 was missing. They asked me if I ate the missing chocolate.
I said no.
They asked again. Then they took me to the fridge to show me where the chocolate was. They asked again and again. They brought up the duck incident (DUCKGATE 2013 NEVER FORGET). They explained how no one else could have possibly eaten the chocolate. Then Ludovica texted her brother and asked him if he knew what had happened and he confessed. Case closed. Mystery solved.
Ok. That's fine. But for whatever reason, it wasn't fine with me. Maybe it was because I had a weird day. Maybe it's because I'm sensitive to the fact that I've been overeating to compensate for feeling alone//off balance//abroad. I don't know. But I just couldn't deal with it. How they didn't believe me. How they didn't take my word for it and trust me. I couldn't handle it.
We left the house to go to the office. I didn't speak the entire car ride. When we arrived at the company I didn't wait for Ludo and my mom to walk with me, I entered the office alone. This was the breaking point. My host mother knew something was up. She confronted me.
"Your mood has changed. One hour ago you were happy, now you are not talking."
"Yes, I'm angry."
"Why?"
"Because I can't live in a place where people don't trust me."
I don't know exactly what was said after that. We had words. She couldn't understand why I was angry. She said it was normal that Ludo asked me about the chocolate. I agreed that part was normal, but persisting the way she did made me uncomfortable and then eventually annoyed and then finally angry.
I went for a walk. As soon as I was alone I started crying - just straight sobbing in the middle of some secluded Italian country road with beautiful villas and olive trees. I called Runa. I called Elena. I cried a lot. It was a very low moment. Then, as I was lying on my back, eyes closed, taking in the sun, I felt a tiny thing come sit down next to me.
It was a dog.
Not just any dog. I know this dog. I've seen him before. He's homeless - I'm sure because he hasn't got a collar and his fur is matted and he smells terrible. But he hangs out near the grocery store where we often go and I've seen him there. Anyway, he seemed to understand how I felt. Dogs are great in that way. They always know.
I spent over an hour just sitting there with that little, homeless dog. Then I decided my "walk" was over and I headed back to the office. The dog followed me but I didn't let him inside. I felt I'd caused enough of a scene for one day.
Even though we had left things on a bad note, I told my host mom about the dog and we had a good laugh. (She remembers the dog because whenever we see him outside the grocery store I always ask if we can take him home. I miss having a dog, sue me.) Then Ludo and I went for manicures. It was as if nothing had happened.
All that matters at the end of the day is that you chose the right color for your nails.
Monday, April 1, 2013
Buona Pasqua!!!!!
First off, can I just say that I love Easter break.
It's been amazing. I finally understand Italian - or at least - 95% of what's being said. I'm so proud of myself. Soon I hope to be able to speak fluently and then read//write. But this is a huge milestone and I can't believe I got here.
Friday
Went to the office in the morning
Second Italian lesson after lunch
PASSOVER DINNER with the host parents - it was so awesome. I felt extremely cool leading Passover seder. Whatever, I did.
Saturday
I slept in. Then we - host parents & I - went grocery shopping for Easter lunch. We - host mother & I - went to Pedaso (the small village my host mother grew up in) to deliver groceries to nonna. I saw the beach where my host mother grew up. I met Marcella & Lorena - two my host mother's old friends. Then we went to my host mother's brother's house. Then we went to Ludovica's English professor's house for an Easter party. He's British, his wife is American, and their triplets are bilingual. After dinner, my host mother and I watched the Princess and the Frog (in Italian, of course) while my host father started cooking for Easter lunch.
Sunday
EASTER!!!!! Oh my goodness. I love Italian values when it comes to hosting // food and house preparation. My host mother cleaned everything twice, paying great attention to every detail. She spent about 20 minutes setting the table. My host mother's brother and his wife and two little boys came over around 1:30 and we didn't stop eating until after 5. It was intense.
The meal was composed of four courses. For starters we had plates of ham, salami, cheese, spicy crackers, three different kinds of bread, and eggs. Then we had pasta - of course - with mushrooms and spicy olive oil. Next was artichoke, lamb, chicken, some other kind of vegetable I don't know how to pronounce, Italian style quiche filled with spinach (on the top was written Buona Pasqua and it was made from scratch by my host father - mamma mia). Finally it was time for pineapple, easter eggs, and ice cream. I can't even discuss how fat I felt afterwards.
My host mom wants me to add that all these pictures are of the leftovers and that everything looked much prettier before the lunch.
Then we went to Pedaso to visit nonna.
Thennnnnnnnnnnnnn I WENT TO THE DISCO. OH MY GOD I LOVED IT.
MONDAY
TODAY
It's been amazing. I finally understand Italian - or at least - 95% of what's being said. I'm so proud of myself. Soon I hope to be able to speak fluently and then read//write. But this is a huge milestone and I can't believe I got here.
Friday
Went to the office in the morning
Second Italian lesson after lunch
PASSOVER DINNER with the host parents - it was so awesome. I felt extremely cool leading Passover seder. Whatever, I did.
Saturday
I slept in. Then we - host parents & I - went grocery shopping for Easter lunch. We - host mother & I - went to Pedaso (the small village my host mother grew up in) to deliver groceries to nonna. I saw the beach where my host mother grew up. I met Marcella & Lorena - two my host mother's old friends. Then we went to my host mother's brother's house. Then we went to Ludovica's English professor's house for an Easter party. He's British, his wife is American, and their triplets are bilingual. After dinner, my host mother and I watched the Princess and the Frog (in Italian, of course) while my host father started cooking for Easter lunch.
Mr. Hills' house in Lapedona
gorgeous
Sunday
EASTER!!!!! Oh my goodness. I love Italian values when it comes to hosting // food and house preparation. My host mother cleaned everything twice, paying great attention to every detail. She spent about 20 minutes setting the table. My host mother's brother and his wife and two little boys came over around 1:30 and we didn't stop eating until after 5. It was intense.
The meal was composed of four courses. For starters we had plates of ham, salami, cheese, spicy crackers, three different kinds of bread, and eggs. Then we had pasta - of course - with mushrooms and spicy olive oil. Next was artichoke, lamb, chicken, some other kind of vegetable I don't know how to pronounce, Italian style quiche filled with spinach (on the top was written Buona Pasqua and it was made from scratch by my host father - mamma mia). Finally it was time for pineapple, easter eggs, and ice cream. I can't even discuss how fat I felt afterwards.
my host dad & his 7 month old nephew
chocolate eggs for everyone
ham - salami - other stuff - you name it, we had it
Italian crackers
there's literally an entire pig under this cloth
lamb
pineapple
cheese - the one with red chili pepper in it is by far my favorite
typical Easter bread - very sweet
artichoke
another kind of bread
homemade spinach & cheese pizza
it said "Buona Pasqua" on it
my host dad has talent
the remains of my chocolate egg
Tommaso very gently waking Massimo up from his post-Easter lunch food coma
Then we went to Pedaso to visit nonna.
Thennnnnnnnnnnnnn I WENT TO THE DISCO. OH MY GOD I LOVED IT.
Letizia <3
~2 am
MONDAY
TODAY
I slept in, of course. Went on a 2 hour 11 km walk with my host mother. It felt nice to breathe fresh air from the Adriatic & prendere il sole.
Had lunch.
Went to visit nonna.
AND NOW WE'RE BOUT TO EAT DINNER & GO OUT BECAUSE WEDNESDAY WE HAVE SCHOOL EW.
Had lunch.
Went to visit nonna.
AND NOW WE'RE BOUT TO EAT DINNER & GO OUT BECAUSE WEDNESDAY WE HAVE SCHOOL EW.
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Chocolate chocolate chocolate
It's finally Easter break. Ludovica went to Madonna di Campiglio to go skiing with Barbara - my host aunt - and her husband.
Today and tomorrow I have to go to work with my host parents during the day. Friday, I have an Italian lesson at 3. Ludovica's English teacher (who is from England and has an American wife and triplets) invited my host parents and me to meet his family on Saturday. On Sunday I'm going to the disco and Ludo's getting back Monday night.
I finished A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, it was excellent, and I've decided to read The Catcher in the Rye in ITALIAN. Yes. The translated title is Il Giovane Holden - which literally means "the young Holden" - because there isn't a good literal translation.
It takes me about 20 minutes to read one page. I skim the page. Write down all the words I don't know. Translate them. Then read the page again. Then if I still don't understand, I have to ask my host mom to help me.
If I can be totally honest I don't understand why I have to go to the office with my host parents during the day. It would be really nice to sleep in and hang out at home alone. I'm alone zero percent of the time. My host mother told me she hates being alone so I think she assumes that I'm the same way. But I'm not. I need my space to think and zone out and blast Kanye. I think it is a cultural difference. Americans are into their independence and freedom. Italians value togetherness. I haven't voiced this to anyone because I'm afraid my need to be alone will seem weird or trivial. It's one of those things I never appreciated before leaving America and something I will value when I return.
Moving on.
Pictures of Barbara's adorable dogs:
When I first arrived, a really nice boy named Luca interviewed me for the school newspaper. He translated our interview into Italian. The newspaper was distributed yesterday.
About 5 and a half hours from Porto San Giorgio
I finished A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, it was excellent, and I've decided to read The Catcher in the Rye in ITALIAN. Yes. The translated title is Il Giovane Holden - which literally means "the young Holden" - because there isn't a good literal translation.
It takes me about 20 minutes to read one page. I skim the page. Write down all the words I don't know. Translate them. Then read the page again. Then if I still don't understand, I have to ask my host mom to help me.
If I can be totally honest I don't understand why I have to go to the office with my host parents during the day. It would be really nice to sleep in and hang out at home alone. I'm alone zero percent of the time. My host mother told me she hates being alone so I think she assumes that I'm the same way. But I'm not. I need my space to think and zone out and blast Kanye. I think it is a cultural difference. Americans are into their independence and freedom. Italians value togetherness. I haven't voiced this to anyone because I'm afraid my need to be alone will seem weird or trivial. It's one of those things I never appreciated before leaving America and something I will value when I return.
Moving on.
Pictures of Barbara's adorable dogs:
When I first arrived, a really nice boy named Luca interviewed me for the school newspaper. He translated our interview into Italian. The newspaper was distributed yesterday.
Lastly, tomorrow I'm doing an extremely condensed version of a Passover seder with my host parents. I haven't been keeping kosher or anything, but I thought it would be fun to tell the story of Passover real quick and drink some wine. When describing Passover to my host family, I told them how a seder can run anywhere from 2 to 4 hours. I promised them I'd keep it to less than 15 minutes. We're going to go look for matzah tonight.
UPDATE: after going to 2 different supermarkets we finally found matzah. It's not called matzah but it tastes and looks like matzah so I'm calling it matzah.
pane azzimo = unleavened bread
Ok now I have to go brush up on my knowledge of Passover. Wish me luck. Ciao.
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
IT'S FREEZING HERE
Today I had my first formal Italian lesson.
I dropped the serving spoon for salad at dinner. It broke. I feel terrible.
Tomorrow I'm going to the theater to see Hamlet. Then we have a week off from school for Easter.
On Friday we're celebrating Passover with a 15 minute seder.
I'm too depressed about the spoon to write anything else.
I dropped the serving spoon for salad at dinner. It broke. I feel terrible.
Tomorrow I'm going to the theater to see Hamlet. Then we have a week off from school for Easter.
On Friday we're celebrating Passover with a 15 minute seder.
I'm too depressed about the spoon to write anything else.
Sunday, March 24, 2013
I AM HAPPY. LIFE IS WONDERFUL.
NOT TO BE OVERDRAMATIC BUT YESTERDAY WAS THE BEST DAY EVER.
1) It was Saturday.
2) Gym was cancelled.
3) I went to Elena's house for lunch & tried my first Italian lasagna. It was beautiful. Her family is so kind and wonderful to me.
4) Had an epiphany about why I'm not learning Italian, which I'll explain later.*
5) Elena washed, dried, and curled my hair. I love her.
6) After being deferred in the fall from the my first choice school, OXY SAID YES. They love me. And I love them. And we love each other.
7) I went to Ludo's classmates house and had dinner with her classmates. I love them. It was wonderful.
8) THE ACES WON!!!!!!!!! WE'RE THE GREATEST HIGH SCHOOL BASKETBALL TEAM IN THE WORLD. Or at least in Pennsylvania.
*Ok this - in my opinion - is why I'm not learning Italian.
The first two weeks of my stay, I went from only knowing the words "ciao" and "pizza" to a vocabulary of about 250 words and some very basic grammar. I asked people to speak to me in Italian. I said things like, "che significa" and "come si dice." I had moments where I thought in Italian. I had a few dreams in Italian. Then some bad things happened.
First, I panicked. When blogging or talking to my American friends, I found it difficult to put together thoughts in English. I hated feeling unable to express myself - in my native language, no less. It terrified me. I clung to English in fear, losing some of my motivation to learn Italian.
Secondly, I never thought of myself as patriotic before leaving America. I enjoy July 4th as much as your average bear, but I didn't constantly think about my nationality or country on a daily basis. Leaving the country pushed these thoughts to the front of my mind and I began to feel more patriotic than ever before. I love America. I love Italy, too. But I am American. I can't really explain it beyond that but being here gives me a new sense of pride in my country. Anyway, the reason I mention this is because (and I'm ashamed to admit this) I felt English was superior to Italian.
Besides, everyone around me - my classmates, Ludovica, even teachers - wants to improve their English. In my mind, I began to think and feel horrible things. Why would I ever want to learn another language? English is the best. America is the best. Everyone should speak English. Everyone here wishes they were fluent like me. As soon as I became conscious of these thoughts, I felt disgusted with myself and vowed to change my mindset.
I will not forget English. I may find it difficult sometimes to find the right words or lose my "voice" or style or whatever but it will be ok. When I come home, it will all come back to me. I'm not longer worried.
Next, 60 million people in this world speak Italian and during the next four months I will become one of them. I can do it. It's necessary for my survival here and personal growth. I have to study everyday. I have to struggle with it. But I can't lazily give up by convincing myself it isn't an important language. It's extremely important.
Ok I have to go to Palm Sunday lunch. Love y'all. Ciao.
1) It was Saturday.
2) Gym was cancelled.
3) I went to Elena's house for lunch & tried my first Italian lasagna. It was beautiful. Her family is so kind and wonderful to me.
4) Had an epiphany about why I'm not learning Italian, which I'll explain later.*
5) Elena washed, dried, and curled my hair. I love her.
6) After being deferred in the fall from the my first choice school, OXY SAID YES. They love me. And I love them. And we love each other.
7) I went to Ludo's classmates house and had dinner with her classmates. I love them. It was wonderful.
8) THE ACES WON!!!!!!!!! WE'RE THE GREATEST HIGH SCHOOL BASKETBALL TEAM IN THE WORLD. Or at least in Pennsylvania.
*Ok this - in my opinion - is why I'm not learning Italian.
The first two weeks of my stay, I went from only knowing the words "ciao" and "pizza" to a vocabulary of about 250 words and some very basic grammar. I asked people to speak to me in Italian. I said things like, "che significa" and "come si dice." I had moments where I thought in Italian. I had a few dreams in Italian. Then some bad things happened.
First, I panicked. When blogging or talking to my American friends, I found it difficult to put together thoughts in English. I hated feeling unable to express myself - in my native language, no less. It terrified me. I clung to English in fear, losing some of my motivation to learn Italian.
Secondly, I never thought of myself as patriotic before leaving America. I enjoy July 4th as much as your average bear, but I didn't constantly think about my nationality or country on a daily basis. Leaving the country pushed these thoughts to the front of my mind and I began to feel more patriotic than ever before. I love America. I love Italy, too. But I am American. I can't really explain it beyond that but being here gives me a new sense of pride in my country. Anyway, the reason I mention this is because (and I'm ashamed to admit this) I felt English was superior to Italian.
Besides, everyone around me - my classmates, Ludovica, even teachers - wants to improve their English. In my mind, I began to think and feel horrible things. Why would I ever want to learn another language? English is the best. America is the best. Everyone should speak English. Everyone here wishes they were fluent like me. As soon as I became conscious of these thoughts, I felt disgusted with myself and vowed to change my mindset.
I will not forget English. I may find it difficult sometimes to find the right words or lose my "voice" or style or whatever but it will be ok. When I come home, it will all come back to me. I'm not longer worried.
Next, 60 million people in this world speak Italian and during the next four months I will become one of them. I can do it. It's necessary for my survival here and personal growth. I have to study everyday. I have to struggle with it. But I can't lazily give up by convincing myself it isn't an important language. It's extremely important.
Ok I have to go to Palm Sunday lunch. Love y'all. Ciao.
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