One more final tomorrow and then I'm free to wallow in my depression over leaving/ celebrate going home/ take in the city for my last two days. Then I fly to MN on the 21st.
OR DO I.
As you surely know, that is also the day the world is predicted to end. I have thought through a lot of potential scenarios. Here are the most likely:
1) The world bursts into flames. Everyone on Earth is incinerated in an instant. However I, unaware, am safe on an airplane watching romantic comedies and laughing at SkyMall pillows. The flames die out during my flight and I arrive safely on land. It's now up to me and the other Plane People of 2012 to repopulate Earth. Colonies develop and alliances are made between airlines. On Earth 2.0, food consists solely of charred plants and endless peanuts. Some LOST-type stuff probably happens. That weird redhead Safety Instruction video lady who goes "Smoking is not allowed" becomes a God figure. Everything's pretty jungly for awhile, but people are generally into it, etc.
Greatest concern: Locating most attractive male/ future mate upon boarding.
2) Science and/or God did not plan for airplanes, so we have not been worked into the equation. All Sky Humans are vanished into another dimension.
Greatest concern: I picture that dimension either looking boring/empty like when Squidward goes waay too far into the future, or being really messy with a lot of space garbage.
3) First one to the gates, y'all! No lines because I was already halfway up here when this business started. Some beezies try to budge (don't some always) while pretending to be on the phone or something, but God was totally watching and that was a test all along.
Greatest concern: Movies tell me that the paperwork process to get in to heaven is super arduous, and I'm not in the mood after finals.
Another possibility is that this'll go down right at midnight, therefore my flight is irrelevant. Which would suck because I'll have gone through the effort of packing, but otherwise the scenario isn't that bad. I can feel accomplished for finishing out the semester, plus I spent my last few months going to the best places on Earth with wonderful friends.
I've heard a lot of students say it's bad that we'll have spent our whole lives in school, but are they kidding? That would be ideal. Never having to face real life. Why do they think Masters programs exist? Everyone wants to hide in school.
Except that finals are a nuisance. I guess I should go study for that last one. So close.
Goodnight and a very Happy Doomsday to you all.
Lauren
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Thursday, December 13, 2012
All Play and No Work Makes Me a Stressed Girl
I have my first exam tomorrow morning. Generally in Italy, which is true for all of my classes, grades are based entirely off of an oral exam at the end of the course.
All of my professors literally wrote the books on their fields on study. Yesterday's Contemporary Italian Literature class was a panel my professor organized with his lit buddies, where they all talked about their friend Stefano (Tassinari) who wrote one of the books on which we're being tested. The level of qualification of these professors is really cool, but entirely intimidating.
The University of Bologna is really legitimate. A classmate from Naples was telling me yesterday about how she wanted to go to university in Bologna her entire life and she was finally there. It's easy to forget that people like Dante and Pope Alexander VI studied here because a general sense of motivation/ desire to learn is lacking at UniBo these days. Yesterday, 16 out of >150 students showed up to one of my history classes. I appeared to be paying the most attention but, in reality, I was recording what the other 15 were doing, i.e. napping or blatantly texting. Sometimes I feel like I'm in an inner-city high school detention. Granted, there was a T.A. yesterday with an impossible dialect.
All of my reasons for choosing a small, nurturing college over a large university are amplified here. However, as a student abroad, there are serious pros to this system. I'm grateful to not have to participate in Italian discussion, because just focusing on the lessons is a brain exercise. I greatly value my relationships with my professors in Claremont but, here, it's nice to peace out for a week to travel Iceland. Additionally, I love that Bologna is a University city. The atmosphere in the main piazza near the UniBo buildings is clearly that of a university. I love that I live near the wealthy, quiet, old people and easily walk to the bustling, cool center of the University. I love that the walk is under beautiful porticoes, past ancient sculptures, down streets- some chic, some quaint, and all quintessentially Italian. I love Bologna. Every time I left, I could appreciate it in a new way when I returned. Of course, I'm seeing its perfection ever clearer as my departure draws frighteningly near.
I'm excited to have a few full days to take it in after these exams. In the meantime, in bocca al lupo a me!
"In bocca al lupo" means good luck, though it's literally "in the mouth of the wolf." The response is "crepi!", meaning "die!" Hopefully whatever that metaphor is still works on foreigners, because my test tomorrow is on Social and Economic Medieval History and I already feel like I'm going to die!
All of my professors literally wrote the books on their fields on study. Yesterday's Contemporary Italian Literature class was a panel my professor organized with his lit buddies, where they all talked about their friend Stefano (Tassinari) who wrote one of the books on which we're being tested. The level of qualification of these professors is really cool, but entirely intimidating.
The University of Bologna is really legitimate. A classmate from Naples was telling me yesterday about how she wanted to go to university in Bologna her entire life and she was finally there. It's easy to forget that people like Dante and Pope Alexander VI studied here because a general sense of motivation/ desire to learn is lacking at UniBo these days. Yesterday, 16 out of >150 students showed up to one of my history classes. I appeared to be paying the most attention but, in reality, I was recording what the other 15 were doing, i.e. napping or blatantly texting. Sometimes I feel like I'm in an inner-city high school detention. Granted, there was a T.A. yesterday with an impossible dialect.
All of my reasons for choosing a small, nurturing college over a large university are amplified here. However, as a student abroad, there are serious pros to this system. I'm grateful to not have to participate in Italian discussion, because just focusing on the lessons is a brain exercise. I greatly value my relationships with my professors in Claremont but, here, it's nice to peace out for a week to travel Iceland. Additionally, I love that Bologna is a University city. The atmosphere in the main piazza near the UniBo buildings is clearly that of a university. I love that I live near the wealthy, quiet, old people and easily walk to the bustling, cool center of the University. I love that the walk is under beautiful porticoes, past ancient sculptures, down streets- some chic, some quaint, and all quintessentially Italian. I love Bologna. Every time I left, I could appreciate it in a new way when I returned. Of course, I'm seeing its perfection ever clearer as my departure draws frighteningly near.
I'm excited to have a few full days to take it in after these exams. In the meantime, in bocca al lupo a me!
"In bocca al lupo" means good luck, though it's literally "in the mouth of the wolf." The response is "crepi!", meaning "die!" Hopefully whatever that metaphor is still works on foreigners, because my test tomorrow is on Social and Economic Medieval History and I already feel like I'm going to die!
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Great Britain and, even greater, Iceland
I've started many an entry about earlier adventures, and have written several complete journals on paper while pretending to take notes , but need to interrupt the slow process of typing those posts to talk about this past week. (You know you're studying at an Italian university when writing a full blog post feels like a large writing endeavor.)
I made the best travel sandwich ever, with a four day Iceland trip between two London weekends. So, basically, an ice cream sandwich because I ate an insane number of Ben's Cookies during both London trips and the ice middle comparison is obvious.
For the record, I realize that I run a high risk of sounding like a brat when writing about my good fortune with travel opportunities. Let the disclaimers show that I am merely taking advantage of my geographical proximity to cultures that I will not have the chance to view again for an indefinitely long amount of time. Traveling in this particular way (as a student with limited obligations, visiting other studying friends, etc.) is the reward that goes along with the social and personal challenges of being immersed in another culture and language.
And if it subtracts any Brat Points in your mind, know that I had to fly through London to get to and from Iceland, therefore stopping to salivate in Harrod's was only logical? Plus it's Christmas, so what's a Love Actually fanatic to do but revel in the glory of the season and the preciousness of those babies' clothes.
Londra* Round 1 was from late on a Friday evening to iNs@n3Ly early on a Sunday morning. My friend Emma, who also goes to school in Claremont and is in Parma for the semester, met me there to see a production of Twelfth Night at the Apollo with Stephen Fry as Malvolio. Due to some booking confusion, we actually had tickets to Richard III with the same cast/crew. It ended up being a happy accident because we were able to see both plays and both were wonderful. I won't break into a full play review, but the acting was superb. At the top levels, theatre actors really know what they're doing and I'm very jealous of their lives. (The worst theatre people, however, are the worst people people.)
Kat spent that Saturday night in London as well because we had to wake up at, no exaggeration, 3:00a.m. to get to the airport. When booking, I tend to forget that afternoon flight means waking up early and early flight means replacing a night of sleep with a power nap riddled with airport anxiety dreams.
But all of the stressful modes of transport were completely worth it for Iceland. Prior to going, I realized that I was setting myself up for disappointment by expecting to discover literally the most breathtakingly spectacular place of my life. However, it managed to meet those expectations because Iceland appears how one might imagine a fairy realm on Mars. I've never been to New Zealand, but I would say that Iceland is unparalleled in nature. Everyone there told us that spending time in nature is a huge part of Icelanders' lives and that a certain (large %) of space must be left open. According to Kat's friend who lived in Iceland for a summer, there are also places where cars cannot drive, as they would disrupt the elves in those regions. This comes as no surprise because our Golden Circle tour guide was more knowledgeable about trolls than any of the sites he showed us... due to knowing a ton about trolls and not so much about the Golden Circle.
I totally buy that there are elves in Iceland. Their wildlife is completely unique, as the country has never been in contact with another. The ducks look sort of like dinosaurs and the horses (which we didn't ride, but I'd love to in the future) ride much smoother, i.e. apparently they can crouch down and move smoothly over the rocky terrain. Driving anywhere, one continuously passes open pastures of cows and horses roaming in front of an arctic backdrop of mountains, glaciers, pools of vibrant blue water, and the occasional quaint wood-sided home. So that was all right.
The Icelanders don't realize it, but they are the original hipsters. Hipsters don't realize it, but they're all trying to be Icelanders. It's not even their way of dressing or randomly cool decorative taste (though it's these, too), as much as their taste in really good music that no one else has heard of. While countries like Italy areoverly fond of the most overplayed American hits from 2009, I heard almost strictly Icelandic music in Reykjavik. Records stores pop up like Starbucks, but all of the stores (not just music sellers) are playing cool music. One CD that I bought and like is Ásgeir Trausti. He's Icelandic Bon Iver, if you're into that. In fact, they sound so much alike that I've wondered if they are truly one person. Suspicious. By the way, amongst my other musical purchases is a CD of ancient melodies about a battle in 1238... I'm honestly unsure of how that made it out of the store with me, but it's not surprising that Reykjavik spurs impulse purchases of that nature.
Agh this is getting unreadably long. I'll try to selectively bullet point my way to the end of this.
- Because it's winter, sunlight there was highly limited. The good news was that we got to watch the pastel streaks of sunrise even when we slept in and we felt like we were cool/staying out late because 'out past dark' meant being out until after 6:00p.m.. Therefore, we got a ton of sleep even though we were up before and after the sun.
- Iceland is the best kept secret travel destination. Maybe it's because there aren't famous landmarks like Paris and other big European cities have? Especially now in the cold, there were no Americans. We did meet a lot of nice British people on tours, in restaurants, and in our hostel (more on the hostel when I post pictures). Kat and I had all six beds to ourselves for the first two nights before some very nice English people moved in.
- The answer to the above point may be that the exchange rate sucks a lot.
- When Kat and I left the hostel on Thursday morning, we were supposed to catch a bus bright and early, because that's how these cheapy flights tend to go. Unfortunately, the sun thing was a bit of a hinderance in that case. It was early, but definitely not bright, so sleeping through the bus felt normal when my alarm didn't go off. We still made it to the gate with time to spare, which was a pleasant surprise when we already thought we'd have to rush with the bus an hour earlier. And THAT'S why you always leavea note a ridiculous amount of extra time when traveling. Finally, I was rewarded for my paranoid tendency to allow for a three hour security line.***
During Londra** Round 2, Kat, Nikki (Scripps), and I stayed with Nikki's friend/former soccer coach in a real adult human apartment. We did a lot of the classics, such as the Changing of the Guard and the major museums. One thing I notice/admire about the English, at least in London, is that they collectively present as elegant and bright. They strike me as a generally more educated population than those I encounter in American public spaces. That could just be the Anglophilia speaking, and I'm not necessarily saying they are more intelligent, but their accents, vocabulary, and mannerisms come off that way to me. For example, the children in the museums all seemed more inquisitive than I've encountered in the States. Also, reading. Everywhere, people are reading. Print journalism doesn't appear to be dying at all in London, where more than half of every train and bus contains people of all sorts studying newspapers.
I'd like to live in London for some extended period of time in my life, partially just to see if I'd ever stop being embarrassingly enchanted by every little thing the British do. Preferably in that situation I would be making my money in GBP because, again, that exchange rate is rough man. I'm pretty sure Europe is just paying the value of the paper itself at this point.
Really in its entirety, the trip was grand (Kat tells me this is how they describe everything in Ireland). London is probably my favo(u)rite city in the world and there's nothing like it at Christmastime. Attaching that to Iceland, the world's #1 Worst Place to Be Blind, made for one of the best weeks ever. Hopefully that magic will push me through the final exam stress that's looming as I type.
*Am I the only one confused about why we don't universally refer to cities by the names they have in their own countries?
**Further, is the inconsistency of the changes not confusing? Roma's too hard to say, but Reykjavik's good to go? I just want to understand.****
***On the way to London, I got through security before 7:30a.m. and my flight boarded past 10... I was seriously the only passenger in the entire airport for awhile. It was bizarre, but good for snoozing. The weirdest part of that check in was when the passport review lady made me wind through an incredibly long maze of those line separator things by myself. We made awkward eye contact (I thought it was awk; she didn't seem to) the entire time. Here. To give you an idea:
[ ▲ ] <- This is the airport lady at her little fake mahogany desk
============== / / and her face is like, ◕‿◕
\ \===========================
============================/ /
\ \===========================
============================/ /
\ \==================△======== <- Meanwhile, there I am ~1 min into the labyrinth
============================/ / and my face is something like, (-___-)
\ \================
\ \
\ \
That was a lot more detail than I was planning to give for the story and a lot more Asian than I was planning to be with the emotional descriptions. Anyway. Work time. Ehhhhhhh
Merry almost Christmas,
Lauren
****Apologies if the asterisk keys are hard to follow
I made the best travel sandwich ever, with a four day Iceland trip between two London weekends. So, basically, an ice cream sandwich because I ate an insane number of Ben's Cookies during both London trips and the ice middle comparison is obvious.
For the record, I realize that I run a high risk of sounding like a brat when writing about my good fortune with travel opportunities. Let the disclaimers show that I am merely taking advantage of my geographical proximity to cultures that I will not have the chance to view again for an indefinitely long amount of time. Traveling in this particular way (as a student with limited obligations, visiting other studying friends, etc.) is the reward that goes along with the social and personal challenges of being immersed in another culture and language.
And if it subtracts any Brat Points in your mind, know that I had to fly through London to get to and from Iceland, therefore stopping to salivate in Harrod's was only logical? Plus it's Christmas, so what's a Love Actually fanatic to do but revel in the glory of the season and the preciousness of those babies' clothes.
Londra* Round 1 was from late on a Friday evening to iNs@n3Ly early on a Sunday morning. My friend Emma, who also goes to school in Claremont and is in Parma for the semester, met me there to see a production of Twelfth Night at the Apollo with Stephen Fry as Malvolio. Due to some booking confusion, we actually had tickets to Richard III with the same cast/crew. It ended up being a happy accident because we were able to see both plays and both were wonderful. I won't break into a full play review, but the acting was superb. At the top levels, theatre actors really know what they're doing and I'm very jealous of their lives. (The worst theatre people, however, are the worst people people.)
Kat spent that Saturday night in London as well because we had to wake up at, no exaggeration, 3:00a.m. to get to the airport. When booking, I tend to forget that afternoon flight means waking up early and early flight means replacing a night of sleep with a power nap riddled with airport anxiety dreams.
But all of the stressful modes of transport were completely worth it for Iceland. Prior to going, I realized that I was setting myself up for disappointment by expecting to discover literally the most breathtakingly spectacular place of my life. However, it managed to meet those expectations because Iceland appears how one might imagine a fairy realm on Mars. I've never been to New Zealand, but I would say that Iceland is unparalleled in nature. Everyone there told us that spending time in nature is a huge part of Icelanders' lives and that a certain (large %) of space must be left open. According to Kat's friend who lived in Iceland for a summer, there are also places where cars cannot drive, as they would disrupt the elves in those regions. This comes as no surprise because our Golden Circle tour guide was more knowledgeable about trolls than any of the sites he showed us... due to knowing a ton about trolls and not so much about the Golden Circle.
I totally buy that there are elves in Iceland. Their wildlife is completely unique, as the country has never been in contact with another. The ducks look sort of like dinosaurs and the horses (which we didn't ride, but I'd love to in the future) ride much smoother, i.e. apparently they can crouch down and move smoothly over the rocky terrain. Driving anywhere, one continuously passes open pastures of cows and horses roaming in front of an arctic backdrop of mountains, glaciers, pools of vibrant blue water, and the occasional quaint wood-sided home. So that was all right.
The Icelanders don't realize it, but they are the original hipsters. Hipsters don't realize it, but they're all trying to be Icelanders. It's not even their way of dressing or randomly cool decorative taste (though it's these, too), as much as their taste in really good music that no one else has heard of. While countries like Italy are
Agh this is getting unreadably long. I'll try to selectively bullet point my way to the end of this.
- Because it's winter, sunlight there was highly limited. The good news was that we got to watch the pastel streaks of sunrise even when we slept in and we felt like we were cool/staying out late because 'out past dark' meant being out until after 6:00p.m.. Therefore, we got a ton of sleep even though we were up before and after the sun.
- Iceland is the best kept secret travel destination. Maybe it's because there aren't famous landmarks like Paris and other big European cities have? Especially now in the cold, there were no Americans. We did meet a lot of nice British people on tours, in restaurants, and in our hostel (more on the hostel when I post pictures). Kat and I had all six beds to ourselves for the first two nights before some very nice English people moved in.
- The answer to the above point may be that the exchange rate sucks a lot.
- When Kat and I left the hostel on Thursday morning, we were supposed to catch a bus bright and early, because that's how these cheapy flights tend to go. Unfortunately, the sun thing was a bit of a hinderance in that case. It was early, but definitely not bright, so sleeping through the bus felt normal when my alarm didn't go off. We still made it to the gate with time to spare, which was a pleasant surprise when we already thought we'd have to rush with the bus an hour earlier. And THAT'S why you always leave
During Londra** Round 2, Kat, Nikki (Scripps), and I stayed with Nikki's friend/former soccer coach in a real adult human apartment. We did a lot of the classics, such as the Changing of the Guard and the major museums. One thing I notice/admire about the English, at least in London, is that they collectively present as elegant and bright. They strike me as a generally more educated population than those I encounter in American public spaces. That could just be the Anglophilia speaking, and I'm not necessarily saying they are more intelligent, but their accents, vocabulary, and mannerisms come off that way to me. For example, the children in the museums all seemed more inquisitive than I've encountered in the States. Also, reading. Everywhere, people are reading. Print journalism doesn't appear to be dying at all in London, where more than half of every train and bus contains people of all sorts studying newspapers.
I'd like to live in London for some extended period of time in my life, partially just to see if I'd ever stop being embarrassingly enchanted by every little thing the British do. Preferably in that situation I would be making my money in GBP because, again, that exchange rate is rough man. I'm pretty sure Europe is just paying the value of the paper itself at this point.
Really in its entirety, the trip was grand (Kat tells me this is how they describe everything in Ireland). London is probably my favo(u)rite city in the world and there's nothing like it at Christmastime. Attaching that to Iceland, the world's #1 Worst Place to Be Blind, made for one of the best weeks ever. Hopefully that magic will push me through the final exam stress that's looming as I type.
*Am I the only one confused about why we don't universally refer to cities by the names they have in their own countries?
**Further, is the inconsistency of the changes not confusing? Roma's too hard to say, but Reykjavik's good to go? I just want to understand.****
***On the way to London, I got through security before 7:30a.m. and my flight boarded past 10... I was seriously the only passenger in the entire airport for awhile. It was bizarre, but good for snoozing. The weirdest part of that check in was when the passport review lady made me wind through an incredibly long maze of those line separator things by myself. We made awkward eye contact (I thought it was awk; she didn't seem to) the entire time. Here. To give you an idea:
[ ▲ ] <- This is the airport lady at her little fake mahogany desk
============== / / and her face is like, ◕‿◕
\ \===========================
============================/ /
\ \===========================
============================/ /
\ \==================△======== <- Meanwhile, there I am ~1 min into the labyrinth
============================/ / and my face is something like, (-___-)
\ \================
\ \
\ \
That was a lot more detail than I was planning to give for the story and a lot more Asian than I was planning to be with the emotional descriptions. Anyway. Work time. Ehhhhhhh
Merry almost Christmas,
Lauren
****Apologies if the asterisk keys are hard to follow
Thursday, September 6, 2012
I'm here!
Since I arrived three nights ago, I've been meaning to post on here and/or send anyone a message over 200 characters in length, but I've been busy with orientation business and settling in! However, I realized that an actually existant lame post is better than the idea of an excellent, long one. So here this is.
I'm really happy to be in Bologna! Occasionally over the summer, there was the concern that I would be essentially repeating Rome/ there was no point in studying abroad twice, but that concern is out the window*. My Bologna experience has been and will be exponentially better than Rome for many reasons. Rome is amazing, but is like the tourist capital of the world. There are probably real statistics to back that up. Anyway, that caused me to feel like an awe-struck tourist for four months, whereas I already feel like I can make Bologna a temporary home. Not only is it smaller, therefore possible to grasp (i.e. geographically), it has a completely different atmosphere. Bologna is the closest thing this country has to a college town, and feels to me like the Oxford of Italy, which I'm obviously enjoying.
For the most part, people in Bologna will not try to speak English with Americans, the way Romans do. Hearing Italian all day long, including in class and in my apartment, better mean that I get awesome at it.
I really like my roommates, Alessia, Francesco, and Mara. They may think I'm weird because, due to limited speaking abilities, I talk about food 80% of the time and begin 50% of my sentences with "I want..." (there's obviously an overlap). Also they pass my room a lot when I'm in here, looking sweaty/exhausted and eating leftover plane trail mix alone, so I guess there are valid reasons to be weirded out. Plus they may or may not be aware that I've been using a washcloth as my bath towel... whatever, packing's hard and I haven't had time to do real shopping.
My language partner, Irene, is also super nice. Now she definitely thinks I'm a zombie, as I met her when I was extremely jet lagged. I know this because she recently asked me if I was feeling better, which was kind of awkward because I wasn't ill. By the way, I'm still jet lagged and think it's all of the times all of the time.
There are only nine other kids in the Brown program. I knew that was going to be great because it would make us close-knit or terrible because they would suck. Thank goodness it looks to be the former because that makes the difference between this being a fun experience or not. Apparently the number of students usually ranges between 10 and 20, but I'm glad we have the number we do because any more would make it hard for us to play all together, and the creation of sub-groups would ensue.
One of the biggest reliefs in my life is my single room**. Never underestimate the importance of a comfortable room. Being able to control my space, lights, and pajama options without worrying about other people has been lovely. Not to mention the fact that it's the largest room I've had in my life.
I'm going to wrap this up because I've probably lost all readers except for you, mom. Now that I've gotten some general things out of the way, I will hopefully post more interesting news soon!
A presto,
Lauren
*This window (sorry, I'm reposting from Instagram instead of taking 'real' pictures to look fondly upon as lifelong treasures):
**This room (sorry, reposting from Facebook instead of you know):
I'm really happy to be in Bologna! Occasionally over the summer, there was the concern that I would be essentially repeating Rome/ there was no point in studying abroad twice, but that concern is out the window*. My Bologna experience has been and will be exponentially better than Rome for many reasons. Rome is amazing, but is like the tourist capital of the world. There are probably real statistics to back that up. Anyway, that caused me to feel like an awe-struck tourist for four months, whereas I already feel like I can make Bologna a temporary home. Not only is it smaller, therefore possible to grasp (i.e. geographically), it has a completely different atmosphere. Bologna is the closest thing this country has to a college town, and feels to me like the Oxford of Italy, which I'm obviously enjoying.
For the most part, people in Bologna will not try to speak English with Americans, the way Romans do. Hearing Italian all day long, including in class and in my apartment, better mean that I get awesome at it.
I really like my roommates, Alessia, Francesco, and Mara. They may think I'm weird because, due to limited speaking abilities, I talk about food 80% of the time and begin 50% of my sentences with "I want..." (there's obviously an overlap). Also they pass my room a lot when I'm in here, looking sweaty/exhausted and eating leftover plane trail mix alone, so I guess there are valid reasons to be weirded out. Plus they may or may not be aware that I've been using a washcloth as my bath towel... whatever, packing's hard and I haven't had time to do real shopping.
My language partner, Irene, is also super nice. Now she definitely thinks I'm a zombie, as I met her when I was extremely jet lagged. I know this because she recently asked me if I was feeling better, which was kind of awkward because I wasn't ill. By the way, I'm still jet lagged and think it's all of the times all of the time.
There are only nine other kids in the Brown program. I knew that was going to be great because it would make us close-knit or terrible because they would suck. Thank goodness it looks to be the former because that makes the difference between this being a fun experience or not. Apparently the number of students usually ranges between 10 and 20, but I'm glad we have the number we do because any more would make it hard for us to play all together, and the creation of sub-groups would ensue.
One of the biggest reliefs in my life is my single room**. Never underestimate the importance of a comfortable room. Being able to control my space, lights, and pajama options without worrying about other people has been lovely. Not to mention the fact that it's the largest room I've had in my life.
I'm going to wrap this up because I've probably lost all readers except for you, mom. Now that I've gotten some general things out of the way, I will hopefully post more interesting news soon!
A presto,
Lauren
*This window (sorry, I'm reposting from Instagram instead of taking 'real' pictures to look fondly upon as lifelong treasures):
**This room (sorry, reposting from Facebook instead of you know):
Saturday, April 21, 2012
I haven't studied, abroad
Abroad, according to my experience and observations, students don't in fact study. My classes are 85% silliness. Before the end of the semester, I want to record one of my professors speaking because his accent is so ridiculously strong that, when combined with his bumbling/ frazzled nature, it's all anyone can do to keep a straight face in his company.
Some of my teachers (I can't call them professors) grade harshly on the one assignment that does come up every once in awhile, however, which isn't fair. I think that one of my professors only gave Bs on the midterm because she wanted her course to appear challenging. Sorry this is starting to sound mean, but my point is, academics for me this semester = not too enriching.
This said, I love my internship. I haven't talked about that and it deserves attention. I work for the Rome Independent Film Festival. It is one of the best parts, certainly the most unique, of my time abroad.
It's a small office in a really nice part of Rome where everyone acts like family.
When I work during lunchtime, they either take me out to eat or the festival director cooks gnocchi for us all to eat around the kitchen table.
They're extremely patient with my Italian and encouraging in general. The women are all beautiful and kind and meet all of the positive stereotypes of a European/ Italian (i.e. they weigh less than the mounds pasta they inhale).
Going out to lunch with them makes me feel as out of place and simultaneously magnificent as a freshman sitting at the cool table, except more so.
The awards show was at a club last night. Their car was full going home, so one lady found a friend to take her home so that I could get a ride back.
They bought me pizza from the 24 hour bakery on the way home.
They let me hang around with their group all night at the show.
Even though I kept obnoxiously asking what was going on and apologizing for the gaps in my Italian, IT WAS AS IF I WAS ONE OF THEM.
I generally don't like to go out late, but I will if being out is fun enough (Madrid was). Last night was the first time I was out supah late in Rome because typically IES kids are just going to American bars in the center of the city, thus no thanks. Last night, I didn't get back until 3:30 and enjoyed myself the whole time because we were at a really authentic Italian place with cool people. I met two Erasmus students, one from Istanbul and one from Germany, that I hope to hang out with again.
Basically, as if it's not evident, studying is the least important part of studying abroad. That may change when I am at a real university in the fall, but for now, the best parts of my time here aren't related to any of my classes or my friends from IES-- minus Carolina, the Italian girl I live with, who remains perfect. I plan to stay in touch with Carolina forever, so between her and the internship ladies, I've made some Italian friends. Unfortunately, Italian men creep me out for the most part, so England would have been the way to go had I been selecting based on husband-seeking opportunities. But alas, I would have chosen Ben's Cookies over humans every day anyway.
I already know I'm going to London when I'm abroad in the fall because Stephen Fry is performing as Malvolio at the Globe. Be still my beating heart.
Wait for me, Ben's Cookies!
Some of my teachers (I can't call them professors) grade harshly on the one assignment that does come up every once in awhile, however, which isn't fair. I think that one of my professors only gave Bs on the midterm because she wanted her course to appear challenging. Sorry this is starting to sound mean, but my point is, academics for me this semester = not too enriching.
This said, I love my internship. I haven't talked about that and it deserves attention. I work for the Rome Independent Film Festival. It is one of the best parts, certainly the most unique, of my time abroad.
It's a small office in a really nice part of Rome where everyone acts like family.
When I work during lunchtime, they either take me out to eat or the festival director cooks gnocchi for us all to eat around the kitchen table.
They're extremely patient with my Italian and encouraging in general. The women are all beautiful and kind and meet all of the positive stereotypes of a European/ Italian (i.e. they weigh less than the mounds pasta they inhale).
Going out to lunch with them makes me feel as out of place and simultaneously magnificent as a freshman sitting at the cool table, except more so.
The awards show was at a club last night. Their car was full going home, so one lady found a friend to take her home so that I could get a ride back.
They bought me pizza from the 24 hour bakery on the way home.
They let me hang around with their group all night at the show.
Even though I kept obnoxiously asking what was going on and apologizing for the gaps in my Italian, IT WAS AS IF I WAS ONE OF THEM.
I generally don't like to go out late, but I will if being out is fun enough (Madrid was). Last night was the first time I was out supah late in Rome because typically IES kids are just going to American bars in the center of the city, thus no thanks. Last night, I didn't get back until 3:30 and enjoyed myself the whole time because we were at a really authentic Italian place with cool people. I met two Erasmus students, one from Istanbul and one from Germany, that I hope to hang out with again.
Basically, as if it's not evident, studying is the least important part of studying abroad. That may change when I am at a real university in the fall, but for now, the best parts of my time here aren't related to any of my classes or my friends from IES-- minus Carolina, the Italian girl I live with, who remains perfect. I plan to stay in touch with Carolina forever, so between her and the internship ladies, I've made some Italian friends. Unfortunately, Italian men creep me out for the most part, so England would have been the way to go had I been selecting based on husband-seeking opportunities. But alas, I would have chosen Ben's Cookies over humans every day anyway.
I already know I'm going to London when I'm abroad in the fall because Stephen Fry is performing as Malvolio at the Globe. Be still my beating heart.
Wait for me, Ben's Cookies!
My Bologna has a second name, it's I.T.A.L.Y.
My continued study abroad plans have been confirmed long enough that it's time I spread the news. I will be returning to Italy to study abroad for another semester in the fall.
I'll have a single apartment in Bologna and will take classes at the University of Bologna through Brown.
Part of why I initially decided to study abroad as a sophomore was to allow for this possibility. I wanted to go to Spain, but the abroad office suggested I return to Italy- a plan that I'm now very pleased with. (Sorry to end that on a preposition, but try typing "a plan with which I am very pleased" and see how unnatural it feels.) I'm happy because: I am already familiarish with Italian culture, I'll keep improving my Italian language abilities, and I will keep checking cities off of my Euro bucket list, which grows ever longer. I'm sad because: I miss Claremont/Claremont friends.
It was tough to confirm this decision knowing I wouldn't see some people for over a year, but distance makes the heart grow fonder. Getting away from Scripps this semester has made me appreciate it in ways I couldn't/ wouldn't have had I stayed. A girl in Madrid on her second semester abroad told me that she wanted to really miss her college and then return loving it. I feel that my three semesters back at Scripps will be greatly improved following two semesters abroad.
Anyway, a bunch of my friends will be also abroad in the fall. (Suite mates: could you please remind me who is fall and who is spring?)
This spring break taught me that sometimes it's better to travel with people I know, rather than holding myself responsible for making new friends whenever possible. Traveling with kids on my Rome program is fun, but less comfortable, i.e. involves a lot of "how many siblings do you have"s and "are you sure you don't mind eating there? it doesn't seem like you really want to"s.
Knowing I get to come back to Italy is easing the anxiety of moving back. Spring is here in her fullest glory, making the thought of leaving extra unappealing. There was an awkward lull in the middle of the program between the excitement of arrival and the realization of the end but, recently, the last phase has given me a renewed gratitude for my surroundings.
So this is perfect. I get to go back to LA, see friends, eat Mexican until I bleed salsa, spend my fall flex dollars*, then come back to frolic once more + study at the oldest university in Europe.
Yay!
*your meal plan doesn't know you're abroad!! if you're leaving and can't make it to campus, give someone the gift of your card number/ the ability to buy every Naked juice at the Coop Store!
I'll have a single apartment in Bologna and will take classes at the University of Bologna through Brown.
Part of why I initially decided to study abroad as a sophomore was to allow for this possibility. I wanted to go to Spain, but the abroad office suggested I return to Italy- a plan that I'm now very pleased with. (Sorry to end that on a preposition, but try typing "a plan with which I am very pleased" and see how unnatural it feels.) I'm happy because: I am already familiarish with Italian culture, I'll keep improving my Italian language abilities, and I will keep checking cities off of my Euro bucket list, which grows ever longer. I'm sad because: I miss Claremont/Claremont friends.
It was tough to confirm this decision knowing I wouldn't see some people for over a year, but distance makes the heart grow fonder. Getting away from Scripps this semester has made me appreciate it in ways I couldn't/ wouldn't have had I stayed. A girl in Madrid on her second semester abroad told me that she wanted to really miss her college and then return loving it. I feel that my three semesters back at Scripps will be greatly improved following two semesters abroad.
Anyway, a bunch of my friends will be also abroad in the fall. (Suite mates: could you please remind me who is fall and who is spring?)
This spring break taught me that sometimes it's better to travel with people I know, rather than holding myself responsible for making new friends whenever possible. Traveling with kids on my Rome program is fun, but less comfortable, i.e. involves a lot of "how many siblings do you have"s and "are you sure you don't mind eating there? it doesn't seem like you really want to"s.
Knowing I get to come back to Italy is easing the anxiety of moving back. Spring is here in her fullest glory, making the thought of leaving extra unappealing. There was an awkward lull in the middle of the program between the excitement of arrival and the realization of the end but, recently, the last phase has given me a renewed gratitude for my surroundings.
So this is perfect. I get to go back to LA, see friends, eat Mexican until I bleed salsa, spend my fall flex dollars*, then come back to frolic once more + study at the oldest university in Europe.
Yay!
*your meal plan doesn't know you're abroad!! if you're leaving and can't make it to campus, give someone the gift of your card number/ the ability to buy every Naked juice at the Coop Store!
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
chugga chooo
I wish to take this opportunity to rave about trains because
I am currently on one and because every time is a good time for train talk. By
the way, I almost made he title of this post “Chugga choo choo- it’s my Train
of Thought!”, but I did some really ashamed backspacing, as even I found that
to be too much.
On March 30th, I took a plane to Paris from Rome. Planes, I think we can agree, are basically
always terrible. If you have ever had the displeasure of flying Ryanair, then
you especially know how bad planes can be. If you’ve never flown Ryanair,
congratulations.
If someone ever
tells you they saw a celebrity on his or her Ryanair flight, that person is
lying to you, because no one with a real adult budget would enter the tin foil stress generator that is a Ryanair
aircraft. I could go on (there aren’t reserved seats, passengers often applaud
upon landing, I once saw a man tear the wheels off of his suitcase in order to
meet the unacceptably strict size requirements, etc.), but it’s time to talk
about trains.
Since my plane to Paris, all of my travels around France and
Switzerland have been by train. Currently, I am looking at beautiful mountain
landscapes, I have my legs crossed, my computer is plugged into a socket, and yet
I feel old-fashioned. Trains.
I know it seems like I’m going overboard with the affection,
but I have such an abundance of train love, I need to share some of it with the
world you guys.
I was in Paris, then Geneva, then a little city called Neuchâtel,
then a littler village called Grimentz in the Alps, and now I am going back to
Paris. I had a day to kill between the Alps and Madrid. After considering my
fairly restricted options (given time and geography), I decided to spend
tomorrow alone in the Louvre. I went to a museum when I was by myself in Spain
(Barcealonea) and that was enjoyable.
Museums give everyone the opportunity to feel graceful- probably due to how
slowly one moves. A museum has the calming effect of a bookstore, except it’s
better because you don’t have to deal with employees asking if you need help or
telling you that those chairs and for the children, could you please decide
what to purchase and put your shoes back on.
The museum in Barelona wasn’t even great because modern art
sucks, in my (correct) opinion. Tomorrow should be a thousand times better. I
should be napping now so I can get as much as possible out of my field trip,
but I am serious- I don’t want to miss a minute of this train ride. I’m now two
for two on having an open seat next to me during international train rides. Well,
there was an old man who was technically in the seat next to me from France
-> Geneva, but he spent the entire
ride in the dining car. I literally became concerned about his health and
considered telling someone to check the bathrooms, but there he was at the bar,
munchin’ on croissants and lovin’ trainlife.
It’s been a long-time concern of mine that, when aliens
first get a look at Earth, they’ll zoom in on an American airport, thus getting the worst possible view of
mankind. Even if you’re not flying Ryanair, the only positive thing about
airports is that they make you feel better about yourself. Travelers used to
dress up and now I sometimes wonder if people intentionally look disgusting as
an F.U. to airport security. Like saying- go ahead and frisk me. You get to
touch my oldest, cheeto-stained track pants.
So, have fun feeling dehydrated yet sweaty, airplane
passengers. (In denial that this group includes me again on Sunday.)
WAaaaaiit really quickly- a guy checking my ticket just
asked me how old I am and I said twenty because I am twenty and now I am
freaking out because THAT SOUNDS OLD. What if he was asking because he thought
I was a 39-year-old trying to get the student rate! Ehhhhhhhhh. Okayokay back
to things.
After I return to Rome on Sunday, I’ll be swamped with work
that I should have been doing on break, but then I will do an account of Paris,
Switzerland, and Madrid. Plus I’ll have pictures uploaded.
Until then, I probably love you! (Probably because there’s a
small chance you’re not Shayda or Erin or someone else who’s told me you read
this.)
Bye!
Hang on. I have to bring you back to my train journey one
last time because it is now raining on fields of yellow flowers outside. Also,
I went to get some chocolate and can only describe walking into other train
cars as seeing who is in other rooms at a party. And the other people at the
party are Swiss businessmen making powerpoints.
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