piu' vita italiana

Although I blogged just yesterday, I've been sitting on several aspects of the Italian life for a week or so, intending to write a bit about them--all things that have struck me about Italy and my trip here in general. It shouldn't be too long.

It's often funny to me to realize small differences between life here and life in America. For example, I can't remember the last time in the U.S. that I paid for anything in cash, which is all I do here. And at one of my favorite restaurants here (Pizzeria Mediterranea) a few days ago, I realized how much people in America rely on some things to be done for them; can you even imagine what a group of young adults in America would do if a restaurant didn't split the check for them? In Italy, I've learned what now seems like such a basic skill--dividing our own bill--as it's customary for the check to contain every item ordered at one table. And I feel like that's the kind of thing that Americans just don't usually do. At least, I never did it before coming here. So now I'm actually growing comfortable handling cash, breaking bills, and making change amongst the group at a restaurant; and we always manage to come up with exactly the right amount for our bill. I don't believe most of my generation in America can do that.

Another small thing: I've come to find the sight of laundry hanging out to try very pleasing. Yes, clothes on a line dry a bit stiff, but it's just so easy and economic not to have drying machines, which take so much power and are very expensive appliances. They don't seem like a necessity to me anymore. Of course I'm sure some people here have them, but people know what to do without them, as well.

I'm becoming exceptionally spoiled in other ways, however. Class here is, as my friends and I so fondly say all the time, "all about the pausa." Which, in English, is a break (often ours last as much as 20 minutes) that occurs every hour of class time. When I have to sit in class for longer than 45 minutes at home, I'm not going to know what to do. I love the pausa (pause) so much, and I'm going to miss it in the States. It's all about the pausa, guys. Italians have the right idea.

And not only do students love la pausa; I often suspect my professors like it even more. I asked a question during a pausa one day, and Teresa (Professoressa Sollevanti) said she would answer it when the pausa was over. I thought that was so funny. Teresa is probably my favorite teacher. We also usually start classes on Italian time, which is an average of fifteen minutes later than our scheduled time. Which means that often I don't even have to leave home until 8 for my 8 o'clock lesson.

I like most of my classmates, except this one woman who we call "the nun," (she is a nun, btw, but her real name is Valentina). She's from Ukraine, and she is so rude. I cannot wait to never see her again in my life. It's rude freaking people like her which make me think organized religion is a big crock anyway. But now that I've publicly insulted a nun, I'm definitely going to hell. I'm sorry, but I'm going to call a rude person a rude person even if it is sacrilegious.

And while I'm thinking about rude people, I had the funniest conversation waiting in line for a bathroom at a bar the other evening. Two girls ahead of me were speaking some language I didn't recognize, so once one of them had gone into the bathroom I asked the other (in Italian) where they were from. She said the Czech Republic, and I said that was cool, and then she asked where I was from, and I said I was American. Then she said, "you speak Italian very well," and I excitedly said, "thank you!" She followed with, "most Americans can't speak well." I thought it was an interesting (and funny) way to both complement and insult me. I speak Italian very well... for an American.

I didn't actually take offense, though. There's a grain of truth in it, as most Americans here (including myself) sit in the middle to low end of their classes; I believe that's just due to a lack of practice. After all, how many Americans speak Italian? Not enough to practice at all outside of class. And in addition, I know for a fact that many of the students who come here specialize (major) in Italian language in their home countries. We, on the other hand, take two or three hours of class a week, which is just not the same.

Today, I went to una farmacia (yes, pharmacy) and successfully obtained medicine for my throat, which will just not get better (my poor immune system. I doubt I've slept eight hours a single night since I left Edinburg, almost a month ago. Or I think I remember doing it once; it stands out because it was so abnormal). But the point of that story is, I had to ask for help, because they don't apparently keep even most minor medicines out on shelves, and I was able to ask for what I needed (something to heal a sore throat), answer a few questions about my symptoms, and then pick from a few different options, all in Italian. So now I have extra strength cough drops with flurbiprofen. Whatever flurbiprofen is.