This past ... month

I’m back! Sorry it has been such a long time since my last blog post. I have been very busy with finishing this last semester of school and traveling around Italy (and Europe). Also, the Internet connection at my house has been down for almost a month now, limiting my opportunities to keep everybody posted.

So, let me start where I left off with my last post (December 5^th). The day after, I caught the Frecciabianca (literally “white arrow” – it is the fast train that goes from Milan to Venice) to Milan, where I met up with some other Rotary exchange students. I stayed there for two nights and visited all of the main sights in Milan – namely il Duomo (the Cathedral), Teatro alla Scala (probably Italy’s most famous theater), and the Galleria Vittorio Emmanuele II (the center of Milan’s fashion district). We spent most of our three days in Milan wandering around downtown and even getting trapped inside Parco Sempione late at night. We were also lucky enough to be in Milan on the day of St. Ambrose (the patron saint of Milan) and saw a procession down Piazza del Duomo.

A procession in honor of Sant'Ambrogio in front of Milan's Duomo.

On our last day in Milan, we also visited a small church tucked away in the center of Milan called San Bernardino alle Ossa which is famous for its ossuary (which is a small side chapel filled with human bones).

The ossuary at San Bernardino alle Ossa filled with human skulls.

After a few days of Milanese fun, I headed back home to Vicenza for a couple days of school before taking off to Budapest that same week with my host family and some of their aunts and cousins. I actually wrote another article for the Summit Daily News about Budapest – which can be seen at http://www.summitdaily.com/article/20101226/NEWS/101229880/1032&parentprofile=1057. [I promise it was not I who misspelled ‘special’].

Here are some pictures of Budapest:

The Danube River between Buda (on the left) and Pest (on the right).

A castle on the Buda side of Budapest.

Now, on the other hand, I am spending my Holiday break in Naples with the family of Mafy (the Italian who was staying at my house in Colorado). I am having an awesome time here and you can expect another post soon – I promise. 

My first published travel article.

Today, I had my first real travel article published in the Summit Daily News. http://www.summitdaily.com/article/20101205/NEWS/101209891/1032&parentprofile=1

I will be going to Milan tomorrow and staying there for a few days, so expect a post around Wednesday or Thursday.

A night at the opera house

Last Friday night I had one of my top three most “Italian” experiences. Along with making wine in my backyard and eating gnocchi at an agriturismo, I think my little trip to the opera last week definitely qualifies. Well, sort of. Despite opera having an Italian connotation to it and Carmen being arguably being one of the most famous operas – now that I think about it, there was nothing strictly “Italian” about this experience. For those of you not aware, Carmen is an opéra comique written in 1875 by Georges Bizet, a Frenchman. The story typically takes place in an early 19^th century Seville, and portrays many traditional Spanish elements, such as bullfighting and Gypsies. The representation I saw actually took a different spin of that, but I will get to that in a bit. So here I was, an American born in Mexico living in Italy watching an opera taking place in Spain and being performed in French by a cast headlined by an actress of Arab origin, understanding just about everything. Towards the end, this paradox of cultures ended up merging into one - Italian.

I had the great fortune of sitting in the second row. I was no more than twenty feet from the trumpeter (who, by the way, has the most important part in the one of the main songs in Carmen – “Les Toreadors”) and I was close enough to the stage to see the vibrations of the actor’s lungs while they sang. Also, in the first row, sitting right in front of me, was a very interesting person. This portly, jovial man from Modena (which is known for its opera connoisseurs) had been to over 200 productions of Carmen, including ones in Paris and New York City. He had the score memorized and was friends with the orchestra’s conductor. He actually told us that he used to be friends with the late Luciano Pavarotti, one of Italy’s most famous tenors, also from Modena.

He said that this production was actually not bad considering that it is a minor theater. But he did say that in one aspect this Carmen was truly lacking – and that was staging. Here, instead of the traditional Seville town square of 1830, they did the craggy Spanish wasteland during Franco times. The “army” was actually a rebel group, and the “bullfight” was portrayed as a circus act. I’ll let you have a look for yourselves – here is part of the fourth and final act. You will probably recognize some of the music. And keep your eyes peeled for minute 3:17 when our kind friend from Modena makes an appearance in the bottom-right corner. Forgive me for the head that obstructs some of the stage. Only try watching this on a fast computer - if not I am sorry.

I'd say they made a good impression on my first opera production. 

No Child Left ... Interested in Education

I knew that many things were going to be different in Italy. Most of all, I expected the food, the language (of course), and other cultural bits here and there. School, though, is probably the most significant difference between Italy and the United States.

The superficial disparities, such as using chalkboards as opposed to dry-erase boards, hand-writing our essays instead of typing them, and staying in the same classroom all day rather than moving around to your teachers’ rooms definitely are the first aspects that get noticed. But now, over two months into the Italian school system, I have discovered some other, more consequential differences between Italian and American high schools. For the most part, these fall under the categories of curriculum and teacher-student interaction – the combination of which makes an immense difference in the level of interest and engagement of the students.

 

[DISCLAIMER] Let me start off by saying that the following comments reflect my knowledge on two high schools – namely, Summit High School in Frisco, Colorado, USA and Liceo Scientifico Paolo Lioy in Vicenza, Veneto, Italy. I am very much aware that there is no such thing as the “average” school in America or in Italy. I have also heard that a school in the southern regions of Italy is typically going to be a lot more lax on grading and procedure than their northern counterpart, where I am. To all of you who read this and are somehow involved in the education system (either in America or Italy): please do not be offended. These are my observations, and I would like to make it clear that I have no problem with the people involved in the system, but rather, the system as a whole. If you disagree with me, please provide your insight by commenting at the bottom of the page. [END DISCLAIMER]

If you ask me, the main problem with the Italian school system is that teachers do not feel the need to engage the students in their lessons, thus boring them half to death and making them lose interest in learning. For the most part, Italian schools teach facts and expect the students to learn and know them, as opposed to American schools where students learn a piece of general knowledge and then go off and do their own research to bring back to the class discussion. Memorization is a key part of Italian curriculums, while in the United States I cannot remember the last time I was required to learn anything by heart. At least to my perspective, this is not a good technique. In Italy, students generally learn (and memorize) a myriad of excerpts, dates, people, figures, formulas, and a whole bunch of other facts in order to be able to recite them back to the teacher. On the other hand, American students do not necessarily memorize information, but are trained to conduct research, discuss, and analyze information that is available. Italian high-schoolers study vigorously what is written in the book and what the teacher has said, while their American counterparts do not take as much from teachers, but rather formulate their own ideas and present them to the class. Even in our Italian literature class, instead of examining the text and analyzing in on our own, the teacher dictates her perspective while students copy down the information to then study and recite back on the test. As Albert Einstein said, “Education is what is left after you’ve forgotten everything you’ve learned”. It is nearly impossible for students to remember all the facts that are studied in high school (most of which can now be found easily with a vast array of resources), so after forgetting all of these figures and facts, students in Italy will have essentially gained nothing from their education. In America, on the other hand, we write research papers (which are pretty much unheard of in Italian high schools), present information to our classmates (also unheard of – in Italy, only teachers teach), and are taught how to hold a respectable discussion. By being trained in these unforgettable life skills, American students gain what Einstein would call an “education”.

I also believe that the lack of respect given to Italian students by the large majority of teachers comes across poorly, resulting in a further deficiency in student interest in academics. In America, it is well-regarded to have a pleasant debate with a teacher about most any relative topic, as this practice enhances the knowledge of everyone involved. In Italy, though, grades are almost entirely subjective, so if you have even the slightest disagreement with a professor, there goes your grade for the semester. I will mention that not all teachers are like that, but most are. It is my belief that without free interchange of ideas, any attempt at learning is futile, for without new ideas being formulated, there is no progress. Also, I feel that since students in the United States can generally chose what classes they want to take, they therefore make a greater effort and are more inclined to participate. Here, instead, one chooses what track they will do in their first year of high school, and take the classes laid out for them. Regarding the grades being subjective, they also tend to be skewed downward in comparison with American grades. They do go off of a 10 point scale, as opposed to our percentage, but that is beside the point. For example, a “good” student in the United States will have mainly A’s with a few B’s in the mix. Here, students rejoice upon receipt of a 7 + which translates to roughly a 76% - a solid C and not very characteristic of a “good student”. The mentality among students here is generally that of striving to get la sufficenza – or the minimum passing grade, a 6. And while grades below about 50% are next to nonexistent in the objective American system, every now and then, Italian students will receive the dreaded 2 or 3, despite answering more than 70% of the questions correctly. If you ask me, this does not push the student to try harder and study more, but rather discourages him or her (but usually him) to have the mentality of “Why study if I get a 2 either way?”.

Yes, that is a chalkboard. And a cross.

Because of these skewed grading philosophies, I usually get asked if school is easier in the United States, and I find it hard to reply. The simplest answer is “No, but it is easier to get a better grade.” This idea is completely incomprehensible to most people, since they believe that school is about getting a high grade. I try and explain that, while in Italy, students memorize everything to get their grades, we analyze and formulate ideas. Just how I am not well-adapted to the Italian system, I would be willing to say that the average Italian would not be able to do that well in the American system of essay-writing and text analysis (but would still pass the class). [I would like to give a shout-out to Mafy here, since she seems to have embraced the American school system, and is excelling at Summit High School.]  I like to use History class as a good example of the curricular differences between the American classroom and the Italian one. In America, we have a great mix of projects, movies, research papers, and activities that help us grasp historical concepts and how they relate to one another, to then be able to apply these processes in a different context. In Italy, on the other hand, the teacher stands at the chalkboard, writing down dates and names, battles and treaties, while we copy down into our notebooks to study for our interrogations. Yes, that’s right – interrogations. In every class, one of the testing methods is an oral test either alone or in a group of two or three. Do not get me wrong, I love my history class here, especially because the content is interesting and the professor really knows how to explain it very well. But I realize that in ten years, looking back, I will not remember that in 1673 the Test Act was passed in England (what we need to know in Italy), but I will remember that there was a lack of religious liberties in England in the 17^th century and that it impacted other events (what we learn in the United States).

I would really like to read your comments on this post, whether they are for or against. Remember that discussion is the best way to learn. Wait, not learn – instead “be educated”. There we go, now we won’t forget it, Also, happy Thanksgiving to all – I would be very thankful if you would click on the “Follow” link on my right sidebar so you can subscribe to my blog! 

The truth about pizza

Alright, I am not going to claim that I am a pizza expert, for that could be a bit pompous. But I will try and tell you the truth about pizza – a truth that might surprise some.

First of all, whatever our personal belief on how and where pizza was invented is most likely wrong, since it is hard to define “pizza” and there are no accurate historical records regarding this admired chow. It can generally be agreed upon that pizza originated in the Mediterranean, with most people claiming the Italian peninsula as the birthplace. This is a fairly reasonable assertion, though some theories maintain that pizza is derived from the Greek plankuntos, the Jewish matzoth, or Phoenician flatbread. Some etymologists even claim that the Italian word pizza comes from the Latin pinsa, which means flatbread.

One fact is definitely known – that the main ingredients in what is one of the most quintessentially Italian dishes are not exactly Italian. The introduction of the Indian water buffalo allowed the manufacture of mozzarella cheese, a compulsory ingredient in any genuine pizzeria. Up until the discovery of the Americas, Italian cuisine lacked one ingredient which now is considered standard – the tomato. Even for centuries after, Italians believed our plump red friend to be poisonous, hence tomatoes were used solely as a decorative piece, until some meager Neapolitans started getting gastronomically adventurous, eventually putting tomatoes on their pizza.  Thus, pizza began to gain popularity with the street vendors of Naples in the early 19^th century, and in 1830, the “Antica Pizzeria Port'Alba” was established as the world’s first pizzeria.

Fifty-nine years later, in 1889, it is said that Raffaele Esposito became the “Father of Modern Pizza” when he created a patriotic pizza for Italy’s Queen Margherita. This pie was specially decorated with red tomato sauce, white mozzarella di buffala cheese, and green basil which not only represented the colors of Italy, but became a favorite of the Queen and all of Italy, making it what is now considered the “original” pizza. Now, it is affectionately named pizza margherita.

Now, you may ask, how did America receive pizza? The most accepted hypothesis states that Italian immigrants from Naples brought over their native fare to New York at the beginning of the 1900’s. In the next century, it would evolve into dozens of different varieties ranging from the Chicago deep-dish to the New Haven white pie with clams to the tropical Hawaiian pizza. America has embraced this interesting culture of pizza willingly, and now pizza has become a staple in the average American’s diet.

The variety in toppings on American pizzas is truly outstanding, spanning all food groups from anchovies to pineapple to even SPAM. But here in Italy I have definitely found the strangest of all – French fries. Usually the advice is “When in Rome, do as the Romans do.”, but whenever you get offered French fries on your pizza, please say no. It is truly schifosa, as the Italians would say.

Che schifo! This is in no way as good as it looks. The French fries were soggy. DISCLAIMER: In no way am I saying that Italian pizza is not good - quite the contrary actually. Just this pizza was no good.

Also, whenever you go to an Italian pizzeria, you order one pizza person. The pizza is very thin and not extraordinarily large, so it is one per person. This is the usual way to get pizza in Italy, though it is possible to find pizza d’asporto (pizza to-go). Usually, these places sell either whole pizzas (American-style), or pizza al trancio which means pizza by the slice. Pizza al trancio can usually also be found at a bakery, but usually these are a thicker species pre-made that morning that have to be reheated (once again, do not do like the Romans do). 

I am lucky in that I can say that I have eaten pizza in notable places, especially New York City and Naples. Of course, these two experiences are among the best I’ve ever had exploring the realm of pizza, but the pizza I had in New Haven, Connecticut eclipses them all. If you ask me, Frank Pepe’s Pizzeria Napoletana  in New Haven’s Wooster Square is the best pizza in the world. If you would like to prove me wrong, I am more than happy to accept your invitation (including airfare and lodging) to wherever you claim is the best. 

Now this is what I'm talking about! The Original Tomato Pie from Frank Pepe's in New Haven.

The last two weeks ... and a flood

I am really sorry I have not written in so long. I have been busy with school and other things and just haven't found the time to write in about two weeks.

So where do I start? Two Saturdays ago, instead of doing the usual outing with my friends from school., I took the bus to Bassano and spent the night at one of the other exchange student's house. The next day, we went together to the Rotary Youth Exchange orientation lunch at a "cantina" near Udine. I had always thought of a cantina as a Mexican restaurant-bar, but it is actually the Italian word for "basement" meaning that this place was a wine cellar. Upon arriving, we met all of the Rotarians in charge of the Youth Exchange program in Italy and once all of the other exchange students arrived, we sat down for business. The first half of this event was dedicated to the explanation of the rules and expectations Rotary had for us as exchange students, as well as the guidelines for our host clubs and families. After that we each stood up and introduced ourselves and said where we were from and where we were living. In turn, we each received a small gift. After that, we were given a tour of the establishment and shown how their wine was made. It was basically the same process that we used at home a month ago, but in much larger quantities. As we made our way back into the restaurant, one of the girls told me that the gift they had given us was a scarf. I was sure she was kidding because a few weeks earlier in Trieste, I had expressed my refusal to ever wear a scarf. Once we got inside and I opened the gift, I couldn't help but laugh at the blue fleece Rotary scarf that was in there.

My blue Rotary blazer with some of my newly acquired pins and the blue Rotary scarf. 

That night, I went back to Bassano and watched a Serie B basketball game. Here are some pictures of semi-pro basketball.

I thought they only waved flags in the crowd at soccer games.
The sign on the left reads, "You with the heart, we with the voice."

At school, we had our first periodic row shift, where every group of students moves back a row, relocating me from the comfortable back row to the very front seat.

Sometime last week - I don't remember exactly when - we started to see snow on top of the mountains.

You can see snow on the top of the Dolomites on clear days.

On Sunday, it was Osvaldo's (my host brother) birthday and we went out to eat to an agriturismo which is a restaurant located on a farm which makes all of its ingredients. The farm where we went grows lots of potatoes and is known for its gnocchi. We also had some game hunted on that property. The wine, of course, was also made there.
Yesterday was All Saint's Day, which meant we had the day off from school. We went to church and then made a trip to the house where my host dad grew up, near Treviso. Here we ate a large lunch at my host grandmother's house and then went to the town cemetery to pay our respects to my host dad's late father. At about that time, it started to rain pretty hard. We had to drive back to Verona to drop off Giuditta for her return flight to Madrid. She had come home for the long weekend, but had to go back to college. Unfortunately, when we arrived to Vicenza, the traffic on highway to Verona (where the airport is) was not moving. She would've missed her flight had we tried to drive there, so instead we left her at the train station, which ended up working out fine.
As we made our way back home, we started to see how bad the flooding was. The government officials directing traffic told us it was going to be near impossible to make it home, but that it was only going to get worse as the night went on. We went for it. As we were wading (can cars wade?) through the river-street we could see cars stuck beside us, but luckily we made it across safely. Once we got to the house, we realized how lucky we were to live on top of a hill, for the river that passes below looked like a large lake and the town had to be evacuated. Luckily it got better overnight, but school is still canceled for tomorrow as it was today. Here are some pictures.

"Boats beware, swimming deer can cross at any time."

I feel sorry for these, and tons of other people, whose basements and first floors are flooded. Also, this is a very cool Halloween-ish picture.

What used to be the Bacchiglione River is now Lake Bacchiglione.

Today's newpaper. Translation of the title: "A disaster: Vicenza and half the province under water."  They said that last night, over 3,000 people were displaced because of the flood and at least two have gone missing. 

Also, I forgot to mention that I was planning on going to Venice with some other exchange students and some friends from school, but that got canceled because it is probably not smart to go to a city that is usually flooded anyhow during a flood.

Crazy Grades, Chips and Salsa, and Gnocchi

This past week has been pretty busy. I got back from the Barcolana in Trieste and plunged right into school. About school, I got the official confirmation that I will be staying in the class that I have been in so far. I am very happy with this decision, because had they moved me to a different class, I would have to start from scratch making friends and whatnot. This also means that I will finally be able to buy the books I need, since up until last week, I was waiting in order to not buy the wrong set of books.
Also, I realized how much I miss American gym class. One would think that a concept as simple as physical education would be essentially the same thing worldwide, yet this is not true. Here in Italy, our gym class only plays sports as a result of inclement weather. Whenever the weather is even remotely good, we get to go run. I will say that it is nice to do our running in Vicenza's city park as opposed to a track around a football field, but the concept of running for a whole hour and getting graded on it is not exactly my favorite (or anybody else's for that matter). Unlike in the United States, where it is fairly easy to get a decent grade in physical education by simply participating, here we are graded on our physical skill. Every day we run a certain distance, for which we are individually timed. There is a grading scale, and you get a grade based on where on the scale you fall. Therefore, only the most athletic students in the school can get an A in P.E. The top runner in our class, for example, was in the 9.5 bracket (in Italy, grades are on a 10 point scale, as opposed to a percentage). I came in third and took home an 8, which would logically translate into an 80% - a grade most people would find ridiculously low for a gym class, yet I was content with my B.
Even crazier than that is my English class. Apparently, I do not speak English. Well, that's not entirely true, but according to my English teacher, I speak it incorrectly since my accent is American rather than British. I thought about pointing out the fact that British English has actually evolved further from the English that Shakespeare used than American English, but then I decided against it. Considering who my English teacher is, it is probably best not to argue. Anyhow, on an English test I took, I got a 7. At first I was really taken aback by it, considering it probably ranks among my lowest English test scores ever, but then I looked around. Although mine was not the highest, it was definitely among the best. Most people had gotten a 6, and were content just to get the necessary passing grade, and some others even had lower grades. But still, this time I did go ask the teacher why I had gotten a 7. She was not happy. Apparently she writes down her own answers to the essay questions, and if your answer is not word-for-word identical, she takes off points. I had answered all of the questions right, with no grammatical errors, and good vocabulary, and yet I only got a 7. Then I remembered what had been told to me: the Italians are on a different scale. Even the best students are thrilled to receive an 8 on an assignment, while 9's and 10's are rare to none. Here, since somebody's grade point average does not count for anything as long as they pass and get their diploma, teachers and students alike are accustomed to lower grades (in the 6 to 7 range). But because of this skewed scale, I was really happy about a different 7 - the one I got on my philosophy test.

Last night, like most Saturday nights, I went out with my friends in Vicenza. We went to a restaurant called Papa Joe's. I do not know why. This place was the epitome of the word eyesore. You would walk in, and it looked like a typical Mexican restaurant that you would find in the United States. It had the equipale chairs and tables and the Tex-Mex color scheme of reds and yellows and greens. But then you would look at the pictures on the wall. My goodness! The first one that I saw actually was not that bad, a cowboy and a chuck wagon (somewhat with the restaurant's theme). But then, next to it, was an unexpected piece of art - a portrait of Frank Sinatra. And next to that, a picture of Babe Ruth. I then purposely looked around to study the furnishings and could not help but laugh. There were some steel cactus sculptures, some Easter Island-ish looking masks, a mural of Cinqueterre, and a picture of a lumberjack. I could not decide what kind of restaurant this was anymore. Then the menus came, and along with them, something which very few people in our group had ever seen - chips and salsa. I would like to point out that since Italians have no dipping sauces in their gastronomic tradition, there do not seem to know the general rules on double-dipping. But still, it felt like I was in America (except for no free water or free refills). Well, sort of. The titles of the items on the menu were in English, but the descriptions were in Italian. And even more unique were the items featured in the menu. On the first page, you could find a vast array of appetizers, including buffalo wings. On the next page, there were ribs and other barbecue type food (I could not imagine this to be any good, so I refrained from ordering, though I do love baby back ribs). But what really surprised me came on the following page - Indian food! After that came the Mexican food. Well, Tex-Mex. And everybody asked me to tell them what to get. I sort of wanted to refuse to tell them because I did not want to be responsible if they did not like it. For many in our party it was their first experience with "Mexican" food. I ended up ordering the chicken fajitas. It was a mistake. But so was everything else that was ordered, so I did not feel that bad. At least we still had fun.

Today I was supposed to go to Verona, but it got canceled due to the rain. One of my Italian friends actually told me a decent joke regarding Vicenza's weather patterns: "What do you call a sunny day after two rainy days? A Monday." And more often than not, this has been true. We will see if tomorrow's weather validates this claim. Instead, we stayed home today. We had homemade gnocchi for lunch, which I really enjoyed, and pretty much just stayed dry and warm inside.

This is the gnocchi as it was being made. Gnocchi is a potato-based pasta, in this case stuffed with cheese, and a specialty of the Veneto region. Typical gnocchi is actually more spherical than these tubular ones, but they ended up tasting the same.

Trieste and the Barcolana

On Saturday, I decided not to go to school. Well, actually I had decided not to go in advance, and I had cleared it with the school. But still, I did not go to school. Instead I caught the early train to Trieste, about three hours away. I went to see the Barcolana, which is the Mediterranean's largest regatta. While I was there, I met eight of the other eleven Rotary Youth Exchange students that are in this Rotary District. We walked around Trieste a lot, and it was great to meet all of them. Here are some pictures. 

Trains in Italy are keep you informed - even about restroom availability.

I thought Trieste was one of the crossroads between Eastern and Western Europe. Who would have expected to see American Indian music?

Pictures of boats never get old.

The main building on Piazza Unita by night.

Three countries. I took this picture from Italy, which is in the foreground. The peninsula in the middle-ground is part of Slovenia, as is most of the peninsula in the background, while the very tip of the far peninsula is actually Croatia. I think we might have driven through part of Slovenia to get to this spot.

Me with the Adriatic Sea behind me. You can see where the boats participating in the Barcolana had to turn around and head back towards the Trieste harbor.

Also I am very sorry if I made any of you feel bad with my last post. That was not very nice of me.

Feeling Lonely at School

So today I realized how terribly lonely I was at school.  I really thought I had made good friends here, but as I looked around the classroom, there was not a single person I would be able to call a pal. And tomorrow I doubt I will be able to relate to any of these people I thought were my friends either. And the day after that is Sunday so, once again, probably not. I know this sounds really sad, but as soon as the bell that signaled the end of school rang, I walked out with my head held high and a big smile on my face. You are probably thinking, “Aw, I feel really sorry for Alex. I hope it gets better.” I am courteously asking you to please stop.

The truth is that there is no reason for you to feel sorry for me. It would actually be quite absurd to assume that I have no friends here. Well, I had no friends today, but today was different than most days. Today, I was alone. Today, I was seriously the only student in my class that attended school. All the rest of my classmates, as well as a good majority of the school, were on strike.

[Disclaimer: I am simply stating that which I have been told. This in no way reflects upon my political stance either in Italy or in the United States. I choose to abstain from articulating any of my opinions regarding politics on this blog. I do not claim that any of the following is fact, yet rather the interpretation from my sources.]

Now, in America, most people would look down upon such behavior as “truancy” or “ditching”, but this is not the case. But here the students were actually on a purposeful strike against the Italian government’s Ministry of Education. According to some of my sources, the Italian government is trying to add new educational programs, yet cutting back drastically on the overall funding, resulting in many teachers losing their jobs. This eventually trickles down to the students, almost all of which participated in today’s “sciopero”, which for some included a march of hundreds of students going from school to school protesting. Many students, though, used this as an opportunity to stay at home for a day. In America, such a manifestation would probably lead to some students getting suspended or other reprimands, but here the school actually somewhat approves of the strike. My guess is that since the students are picketing for an increase in funding for the school, the administration appreciates the effort and therefore allows the truancy. All a student needs for the absence to be justified is a signature and a note that says, “I was on strike” and I think they are off the hook.

The reason I will have no friends at school tomorrow, though, is that I will actually be going to Trieste for the weekend for a Rotary (Rotaract, actually) event to see the Barcolana – the Mediterranean’s largest regatta.  I have actually made some great friends and love hanging out with them. Most days at school are quite enjoyable because of this.

Here are some pictures of the strike.

Part of the strike in Piazza San Lorenzo in front of my school. These students, as well as others across Italy, went from school to school calling for change.

A picture of my classroom. I took this opportunity to photograph it, not only to prove that I was there alone, but also because it would be a bit awkward to pull out the camera on a regular day.

First Month-iversary

Exactly a month ago was my first night in Italy as an exchange student. Before coming, I had certain expectations about my year here, which I knew were just fantasies, yet in the back of my mind, I still hoped my exchange would be like. Here are a few of the hopes and expectations I had before coming, a month ago, that were wrong. Some things are good, some are bad, and some I have not decided whether they are good or bad, but that is just how life is.

About myself:

I never really thought I would miss my family, friends, etc. I was wrong.

I never expected that I would write in my journal so much and be able to commit to writing daily. I was wrong.

I had told myself that I was not going to communicate so much with home. I was wrong.

I never thought that I would ever be sad – I thought I was as hard as a rock. I was wrong.

But also, in those times of sadness, I never thought I would be as happy as I am right now and most other days. I was wrong.

I never believed that my network of other exchange students would be so helpful. I was wrong.

I never truly believed that I would learn Italian so quickly. I was wrong.

I thought I was going to gain weight while I was here. I was wrong.

I thought I would be the worst at soccer. I was wrong – but I also play with kids three or four years younger, so I am not counting this as an accomplishment.

About Italy

·         I would have never thought that Italian streets would be as safe as they are. I was wrong – they are probably safer than the Summit High School parking lot.

·         I thought they ate pasta every day. I was wrong.

·         I also thought they drank wine with every meal. I was wrong – my parents at home drink wine more often than my host parents, and they do not even drink wine that often.

·         Never in my wildest dreams did I expect Italians to be so American as to put ketchup on their pasta or French fries on their pizza. I was wrong.

·         I never thought I would have visited so many places in just a month. I was wrong.

·         I had heard that Venice was great, but I never expected to fall in love with it as much as I did. I was wrong.

·         I never thought I would make wine in Italy. I was wrong.

·         I never expected to have a Big Mac in Italy. I was wrong – that was actually my first meal in a restaurant here.

·         I had seen pictures, but I never thought Vicenza would be as beautiful as it is. I was wrong.

·          I never expected the view from my house (even my bedroom) to be so great. I was wrong.

·         I thought school would be okay, but not great. I was wrong – I love it.

·         I never thought I would have made so many friends so quickly. I was wrong. 

So far my exchange has been a great experience and has helped me grow immensely as a person. I am sure it will continue to do so as it continues.

Doner Kebaps and Wine (but not together)

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Once again, I am very sorry I have not written in so long. This past week was normal, in the sense that I had school Monday to Saturday, I went to a Rotary meeting on Thursday night, and went out with some friends on Saturday night. I received my birthday package from my parents (a little bit late, but greatly appreciated) and I went to soccer practice a couple times. At school I also signed up to play volleyball, which I am no good at, but it will give me something to do.

Saturday after school, I decided not to go home for lunch because a few friends and I were going to be seeing a movie three hours later. I did not feel it was worth taking the bus home and then back in order to be there for an hour, so instead I ate lunch in Vicenza. Later that night my friends and I were going to go get a pizza, so I decided to get something that was not Italian for lunch – a Doner Kebap perhaps?

One of Vicenza's many Doner Kebap restaurants. They are the European equivalent of Mexican food.

This has got to be one of my proudest photographic works.

Later I killed some time in Vicenza and went to meet my friends in front of the movie theater. I probably should have gone online to read a spoiler on Inception, considering it is supposedly hard to follow even in English, but I was amazed at how well I understood. Only once did I have to ask what a certain word meant and at certain points I even found myself not noticing that the film was in Italian because of how well I understood. After that we walked around in Vicenza, and then met up with some other friends to go get a pizza. I noticed that at this place, unlike the one last week, nobody ordered the French fries pizza, so I ordered the cheese again. After that we walked around a bit longer, and then went to a bar. Unlike in the United States, a bar is not a place that serves mostly alcohol. They definitely do, but more people in the group ordered coffee or some other non-alcoholic drink than anything else. I got home late and fell asleep pretty quickly because I was so worn out from speaking Italian all day. It truly is physically exhausting to communicate completely in a different language.

Yesterday morning I woke up to an empty house. The whole family had gone to Osvaldo’s soccer game, and apparently they had come to see if I wanted to go, but I was sleeping. Once they came back, Cristina said to help Dante when he arrived. “Who’s Dante?” I thought to myself. Later he arrived and we helped him carry a contraption out of his car and into the backyard. Then we started making wine.

Here is an illustrated guide on wine making.

Step 1. Grow grapes.

Step 2: Pick grapes.

Step 3: Have your Italian host sister wash her feet and stomp the grapes.

Step 4: Have an Italian wine expert put all the stomped grapes into the cool wine-making contraption.

Step 5: Have the same Italian wine expert use his cool wine-making contraption to get the last drop out of those grapes.

Step 6: He then passes it all through a filter into this large jug. We filled about three or four of these.
Step 7: Store for about three weeks. Then filter again to remove any remaining seeds, grape skins, etc.
Step 8: Store for about  two or three months until the grapes ferment.
Step 9: Drink.

This is what the grapes look like after they have had all of their juice pumped out.

All steps of the process were done here.

Blues, French Fries, and Canals

Friday night the whole family went to a concert. At first I thought that it was going to be a classical music concert like the one we had gone to a week ago, but this was not the case. We approached the Teatro Astra in Vicenza and I could hear the loud heavy metal from outside the venue. The sign outside the door read, “Concerto per i bambini di Tibet”, or “Concert for the children of Tibet”, a fundraiser for the service organization of Vicentine doctors that help out an orphanage in Tibet, which my host mother is part of. A few minutes later, the event officially started with a teenage band called Plastic Smile. Their music was mediocre at best, and also not my preference of genre. Their main song, called “Hey, Daddy” was a cacophonous mix of the terrible sounds coming from a bad drummer, two long-haired guitarists, and a lead singer with a thick Italian accent singing in English. They also used way too much stage smoke than their musical skills entitled them to. This made me feel even sorrier for the Tibetan children whose orphanage had been destroyed in the recent earthquake. It was then followed up by a much better group of older men playing ‘70s “rock progressivo”, also in English. After that was a second teenage band, which I was hoping would be better than the first. Luckily, it was, as they played a lot of Queen covers and definitely did deserve their amount of stage smoke. To end the night, a fourth band came on stage, and was definitely not what I expected - a Louisiana-style blues band who played classic blues songs but in Italian. For example, instead of playing “Sweet Home Chicago” they played “Dolce Casa Asiago”.

The Italian blues band.

Yesterday, had school, but that night, I went out with a bunch of friends for a pizza to celebrate the birthdays of two of them. I ordered a “margherita”, or the classic cheese with basil and it was very good. But to my surprise, many people there ordered a different kind, called “patatina”, which is a regular pizza crust with tomato sauce, but French fries on top. It was not exactly how I expected the Italians to eat their pizza. While eating, I had a nice conversation with my friends in which they explained to me in great detail the Italian government.

My friends were amazed that we did not eat this in America.

After dinner, we walked around Vicenza for a few hours, which was very pleasant. Vicenza is a great town by day, but by night it is amazing, especially when with some friends. At almost midnight, we all said our goodbyes and headed home.

This morning, I woke up at about nine, which was nice considering that I had been waking up before six for six days straight. I went downstairs, where Cristina asked me what I wanted to do today, to which I replied the easy, “I don’t know, whatever you are doing.” She then looked outside and told me to go search the weather forecast for Venice for today. I went and found that, unlike what she thought, it was going to be a beautiful day. She then told Oscar, my host father, that we were going to Venice for the day. I was extremely excited and ran upstairs for my camera. We then went to pick up Osvaldo at his soccer game in a nearby town, and drove the remaining part of highway to Venice. When we were in the car, I was talking with my host siblings and not looking outside, but then I took a glance and saw something totally unexpected – a ferry. I then looked further and saw Venice further off. We were on the highway over the Venetian lagoon. We then parked and walked around Venice for a good four or five hours. If a picture is worth a thousand words, then below is a 100,000 word essay on today. I would rather let you see what I saw today as opposed to just tell you about it.

Piazza San Marco, flooded due to a high water level.

Me in front of one of Venice's hundreds of canals. Of course, the gondola in the back.

I could not help but take the classic postcard picture. Here you can see what a beautiful day it was.

And another postcard picture. This was later in the day when the sun was beautifully reflected on the canals.

From left to right: Giuditta, me, Osvaldo, Maria, and Oscar. Cristina is taking this picture on us at Piazza San Marco.

A traffic jam, Venetian style.

A young girl having some fun in flooded Piazza San Marco.

One of Venice's many shops selling masks for Carnival, which I hope to be able to attend this spring.

Always have to have your vegetables - these funghi where outside of a Venetian restaurant.

The stilted walkways in Piazza San Marco.

Fish, Peaches, and an all-around Update

Sorry I have not written in so long, I just have been very busy this past week. Other than school, which is going very well, I have done a few nice things this past week. Yesterday we all went as a family to a nearby lake for a fairly short walk around it. While we were there we did come across an unexpected visitor, though. After than that Oscar and I went to the Rotary meeting. I am actually a bit confused about this restaurant, since last week every course included mushrooms, while this week we had none. I think every week they change their theme; this last week’s being seafood. We started off with a very good plate of penne pasta with shrimp and scallops, followed by a large chunk of fish, whose Italian name I could not translate. Even for dessert, which is very hard difficult to make out of fish, they came about as close as possible. The Italian word for fish, pesce, is very similar to the word for peach, pesca, which is what was served for dessert. I need to start drinking caffeine on Thursdays when I am going to Rotary meetings, as spending a whole day speaking Italian is very tiring, and towards the end of the meetings around 10:30, my eyelids start feeling like they are made out of lead.

An unexpected critter I would expect to find in a Louisiana bayou rather than in the Veneto region of Italy.

I was also quite busy writing an article for the Summit High School newspaper, Tiger Tracks. Once that goes into publication in Colorado, I will post it on here, as it would be wrong for me to publish it first. Also, I have walked around Vicenza a lot and I would be comfortable saying that I know my way around pretty well now. I have also decided that by the end of my stay, I would like to have visited every gelateria in Vicenza, judging both their stracciatella and fragola flavors (vanilla with chocolate, strawberry). Maybe once I am done, I could write a book about it.

As for school, it is going very well. I have really gotten to like history and philosophy, partly because it is the only class where the teacher writes everything she says on the chalkboard, making it easier to understand. Reading Italian is a little bit harder than I would have expected, as I cannot quite skim the book and get the meaning – I must make an active effort to comprehend everything. And it is also a little bit harder when we are reading Dante’s Purgatorio, which is hard for all of the Italians also. I really enjoy the fact that my school is situated a block away from Vicenza’s main avenue, and on one of the city’s main downtown plazas. Here is a picture of the Church of San Lorenzo as seen from the window of my classroom.

Chiesa San Lorenzo as seen from my classroom. 

Tonight, after soccer practice, we will all go to Vicenza for a concert that is a fundraiser for a project Cristina (my host mother) is helping with. I do not know the details, but I do know that she goes to Tibet often with some other doctors to offer medical assistance and that the fundraiser will benefit the reconstruction of an orphanage/school that was devastated by the recent earthquakes.

Also here are some miscellaneous pictures that I was not able to post last week. We got a high-speed Wi-Fi modem just yesterday, so it will be easier for me to post more pictures more often.

Some odd-looking veggies from last week's Festa di Zucca.

And some more normal, yet less colorful ones.

From left to right: Cristina, Maria, Oscar, me, Osvaldo, and Giuditta on my birthday, last Sunday.

A picture of my room, or at least half of it. On the other half I have a desk, a bookshelf, and a dresser. Despite the bunk beds on the right, I have this room to myself and I sleep in the bed on the left.