The Study Abroad Experience Is A Social Construction

*Disclaimer* The title is meant as a joke, please for the love of all things that are great in this world, don't take it seriously. You know who you are.

So. Instead of gushing about all the crazy, wild, fun things I did this weekend, I'm going to muse on the questions we all ask ourselves when we go abroad. One I've asked myself a lot this weekend is if I'm doing study abroad 'right.' Having been fortunate enough to have lived abroad several times, I thought I knew what to expect when I came here. However, there's been a few things weighing on my mind, and after a heart-to-heart with my roommate M, I've come to realize a few things.

When someone says they're going abroad for school, a typical response is something along the lines of "say yes to EVERYTHING!" "make the most of EVERY MOMENT!" "get out of your comfort zone!" or "don't miss out on any opportunity!" While these responses are certainly well intended, I have to wonder what kind of pressure they're putting on the student going abroad.

To explain my tongue-in-cheek title, that's why I refer to it as a social construction. Or rather, the experience. Everyone assumes that a student going abroad is going to have the best time, and most likely that is true. However, it's fluid. Everyone - including myself - has good days and bad days, where they toggle back and forth between feeling a sense of purpose & belonging, or feeling like they aren't doing enough to take advantage of being here. If they don't post pictures of themselves appearing to have a wonderful time, are they doing it right?! If they don't gush to their family and friends back home about the cool things they're doing, are they really doing anything at all?!

It's been hard not to compare my own experience to those of others, whether they be friends who have gone abroad before me or friends who are currently abroad with me or elsewhere. There's a lot of pressure to go somewhere every weekend, to go out several times a week, to have a million friends and to be constantly doing something. But at what point do I have to take a step back and say, hang on: this isn't what I want. I don't want to be pressured into doing something I'm not interested in, just because I'm afraid of missing out. No one should feel obligated to do things they don't want to do, just because they're afraid someone will say they weren't taking advantage of being abroad.

Let's take, for example, our three day weekends. Ah, what a beautiful thing. I've wished for three day weekends pretty much every day since elementary school. It's a great advantage here as well, when it comes to planning trips. This weekend I could make no alternative plans, because I had an archaeology 'field trip' in Perugia that prevented me from going away. While at first I was a little salty that I had to stay here, I actually think it ended up being a good thing. I don't have that many weekends in Perugia left, and I got a chance to explore the archaeological museums. Today I went for a beautiful solo ramble and toured a monastery. So...why do I feel like I should have done more?

Because I keep comparing my relatively low-key weekends to those of my fellow students who have already gone to Prague, Switzerland, Greece, London, or Spain.

It's important for me to remember - and for anyone else who has or will study abroad - that there is no rule for it. Everyone who comes back to the States looks back on their time so fondly that they are eager for others to enjoy it just as much, hence the 'say yes to EVERYTHING!' But let me put a stop to that right now. There simply isn't time. While I'd like to do as much as I can, and will certainly try, it's only four months, which goes by a lot faster than it seems. Secondly, I have to remember that pretty much everyone I know who has gone abroad has probably had these same doubts and moments of panic where they wonder if their experience is full enough or if they're not taking advantage of it enough. Third, I must remember that I chose Italy for a reason. While it's certainly easier to travel around Europe and I do plan to go out of Italy, I came to Italy...to explore Italy. So why doesn't that seem like enough to me?

Because I am wondering those things. Am I doing enough? Am I taking advantage of it enough? Am I doing it right? Do I even deserve to be here if I'm not going to say yes to everything?

There's nothing wrong with any scenario. Truly, I believe that. But I also think the urge to do anything and everything eclipses the mental health side of it. For introverts like myself and my roommate M, it takes us a little longer to be comfortable, to settle into a routine, to find firm friends (try saying that four times fast!). Other people are quicker at it. Doesn't mean they're more adventurous or braver or anything (though I do wish I could be more like that). Doesn't mean I'm a coward or that I'm not doing it 'right.'

Now, seemingly conversely I do think that it's important to get out of one's comfort zone and to take advantage of opportunities presented to us. But everyone has a different threshold, and one person's version of 'taking advantage of opportunities' does not translate to someone else. To reiterate my earlier point on choosing Italy for a reason, I have to remind myself that, just because I haven't yet left Italy, that doesn't mean I'm not taking advantage of my time here. And it's okay if everything is not always sunshine, to quote my roommate M.

There is somewhat a sense of expectation that one only has good experiences; however, no one - absolutely no one - has a perfect time. Everyone has things that they wish they'd done and didn't (this applies to 'normal life' as well, now that I think about it). There will be things that I won't do, and thus will regret not doing, I know that already and I've only been here a month. But I also don't want to dwell on what won't happen and try to focus on the things that have happened that I have enjoyed. And to remember that it's okay to not have everything be perfect and wild and adventurous all the time. Sometimes you just need to sit in your room with a book and have a night (or two) to yourself.

So here's the final word on the subject: there is no 'right' way to do abroad. As long as you're safe and happy where you are, it's okay if your version of adventure means wandering around in your city. It's also okay if your version of adventurous means leaving your host country to go to Switzerland or something. Everything is okay. There is no rule to study abroad. So if you find yourself in the same boat as me, tell yourself that you're here, aren't you? I'm here, aren't I? That's brave enough by itself.


*Further disclaimer* I'm not trying to complain or sound whiny; I just think this is something that should be considered but that's one man's opinion, that's all, have a great day BYE*

The Gryffin

note: this was an assignment for my creative writing class. I had to describe Perugia using sensory details, and this is what I came up with!

perugia crouches like some ancient elegant creature on the the hip of a jeweled valley. it breathes pearly mist upward to wash over the city walls in the morning, and silver olive trees lurk behind it and then burst forward when it is lifted by the sun, still cold in the january mornings. the light washes over medieval brick walls, illuminating centuries of dirt and dust that has become embedded in the stone, leavings of etruscan lives that have become further settled in the skin of the earth. at sunset the ruddy light spills like ripe berries over the walls, staining everything pink and copper and gold. the gryffin settles in for the night as purple sweeps over its back, pinpricks of stars of cities across the valley wink in companionship to their brother city, comfortable in the knowledge that it will wake in the morning to spread its wings over the valley once again, casting shadows on the thighs and knees of umbria.

in the veins of the city, the alleyways, one’s nose will fill with smell of the cold and damp of an italian winter. blue woodsmoke drifts over the walls, blends with the threads of garlic and onion coming from a nearby kitchen. the apartments smell of dust, the washing machine that hasn’t been opened in about five months, and the pizza place down the street. it’s the mingling odors of present, everyday life and the shades of ancients who walked where people are now strolling along hand in hand or alone with a takeaway pizza box. there’s a greek place on the corner that always smells faintly of fried fish; the owner stands outside in a blue membrane of cigarette smoke, if he’s greek, maybe he’s wondering how he got from his dry and sun-burnt homeland to this mist-shrouded creature to the north. if he’s wondering he doesn’t say anything. the city closes its eyes and inhales the scent of just woken humans and the smell of leftover dreams on their pillows, the new bread and cornetti, spirals of steam off coffee that curl like smoke.

if you stick your tongue out, the freshness of the mist settles and soothes; one can taste the oncoming rain in the air sure as sugar. someone’s home cooking is thickly pouring from a window two floors above, tart red wine and a hint of basil, something that sticks to your bones in that good traditional italian way that your mother inherited by way of a smear of flour on her cheek from the fresh pasta and then passed on. there might be a hint of romance in the air, not the kind between two people but between a person and a city that lives and breathes, there’s a taste of longing for time travel in the back of their throats. in the morning perugia opens its golden eyes and tastes of honey that spreads over the walls.

protruding from the fog like the bow of a ship, perugia’s eastern ear leans toward assisi, another glowing receptacle of the sun and its song. a cacophony of sounds parade through its streets, sung awake by doves and cars that clatter on the cobblestones. there’s a woman shouting across the square as she hangs her laundry, it snaps in the breeze and shutters clap their hands. the city has awakened and with it its people, moving through its veins to the heart of it where a fountain chatters on warm days. its voice is notably absent when the chill of winter sets in, but no one wants to hear the crack of 4th century stone. a man catcalls a woman and her heels stalk on the stone, an ominous, furious cracking that she wishes was lashing across his face. a car horn shrieks annoyance at a tourist dashing across the streets with seconds to spare. nighttime brings with it the bright young things, dressed up in their glitter and lipstick, loud and drunk on youth and wine and independence. cheers erupt, yellow and bright, from some pub where a group has gathered to watch a football game. 

there is this way of worshipping old things, a delicate form of fingertip worship: pressing the very end of your fingers to a stone at the very edge, the very corner of a wall or a building without the knowledge of the last human to lay hands upon it. for all you know, you could be layering your handprint on top of one that has been there for centuries, untouched. the walls hold onto the cold, they grasp it with gryffin’s talons and let it spread over the souls that pass through the sun drenched archway into the shadowed alleys where secrets of the ages have come to roost. perhaps the grip of the talons lingers on yours shoulders. but we are touching the innermost nerves of the city, a hive, we can feel its skin and its veins vibrating with life. and this. this is the way we worship our city, by pressing our hands to its walls and letting it absorb our skin cells along with the billions of others. this. is how we live here.

An American In Perugia

It's me again!

I was going to try to update this once a week, but that might be too ambitious for me. We'll see, shall we?
SO. I have concluded just over two full weeks here in bella Perugia (pictures below). I briefly touched on our first few days in my last post, so now that I've got enough to write about, I'll give more detail. There are loads of photos on my Facebook page, but if you don't do facebook, I'll post more photos soon.

Starting Monday the 11th and continuing through Thursday, all of us had what I refer to as a crash course in survival Italian. Some students came in with prior experience, others like myself came in with none at all. We learned the basics: the alphabet, numbers, how to say your name, etc etc. Morning sessions went until noon, and then picked up again in the afternoon at either 1.30 or 3.30. My session was the latter, from 3.30 to 5.00. I had ample time every day to find a new cafe for lunch, go home and take a nap, or go to the school library to download books on my Kindle. We typically ate dinner in our flat, and gradually I've been eating later and later at night. Most places here don't serve dinner until 7 pm at the earliest. I've opened a few restaurants before. It's a bit awkward.

During the afternoon sessions of our Italian classes, we went on mini-field trips around Perugia: the grocery store, a cafe to practice ordering in Italian, or the bus station. It was really useful because the instructors told us things that we normally wouldn't notice or think about; for example, when buying produce in the store, you MUST have a plastic glove on to pick up the fruit/veg, and you MUST weigh it yourself and print off a price sticker. We've all run into that little trouble spot a few times at the check out, when the cashier notices we haven't printed off the sticker and then huffs at us in exasperation. I could just tell they were internally rolling their eyes at us.

I've done some contemplation of what it means to be an American in Italy. While the stereotype of Americans is very often untrue, some elements of it still come out. For example, drinking. In America, I or my friends might have a few drinks and then go to the bar. It's - I hesitate to say more acceptable, but for lack of a better term, I'll stick with that  -  more acceptable to be drunk and to proclaim yourself as such. Here in Italy, people don't really get drunk. Wine is drunk with dinner, of course, and there's very often cocktails served with apertivos, but rarely will you see a group of Italians stumbling down a street. It's considered rude and is, in fact, illegal to be publicly drunk here, which is fine by me, since I'm not known for my penchant for public intoxication. However, as part of a large group of college students used to a different style of drinking and partying, I can sense myself becoming more and more eager to move away from that stereotype of the loud, drunken American. It's definitely a bit stressful, trying to remember the various cultural aspects that I'm not used to. I have no doubt that we'll all get there, of course; it's more that we're still in the first few weeks of our stay and we're all feeling that sense of independence that came with the first year of college, only more intense.
That's just one example of the learning curve that we all inevitably come to.

Back to Perugia itself. The city is ancient, dating back to Roman times, and has some parts of the original city still in use. For example, the route to the bus station takes you underground through what used to be the city center 'back in the day.' I can't quite believe I get to live here. I walk around each day with my eyes wide open at the tiny alleyways that hide little cafes (referred to as 'bars' here) and shops.
Perugia is set like some ancient jewel on the side of a gold and amethyst valley. When at the right location, I can view a huge part of the Umbria region and the surrounding mountains. Umbria is a smaller region right in the middle of Italy, and Perugia is just one of many smaller towns dotted among the farms and lakes. The sunsets, on clear evenings, have been the most incredible shades of orange and purple, and across the valley you can see the city of Assisi.

My roommates and I, along with a handful of other people, journeyed to Assisi last Saturday. I am rarely speechless, but I was in that city. Almost every building is made of some stone that is mottled brown, white, and grey, with veins of tan and faint pink running through it. We arrived midday, so the sun was high and bright, the wind was icy. We wandered around the blustery city for a while, peeking down quaint alleyways and photographing window boxes, all the while holding on to our respective hats and scarves that were being blown about by the wind. Eventually we came upon Rocco Maggiore, the ruins of an ancient fortress that has been renovated and includes a museum. The center part of the fortress was a rectangle and in it were various rooms surrounding one central courtyard. The rooms had weapons and clothing that had been used as early as the 14th century (well, the clothes were replicas, the weapons I'm pretty sure were original, given the amount of dust and rust on them). We were also able to go out on the battlements of the fortress, and I was absolutely agog at the height we reached. Assisi is already halfway up a mountain, so to stand on the edge of the highest battlement was like being on the edge of the world. The wind, even stronger up there, came howling through mountains behind me, dark with shade and crouching ominously behind this tiny white gem of a city. We were only in Assisi for a few hours, and I'm already planning to go back.

The first week of classes went relatively smoothly: I have an Italian language class, an archaeology class, creative writing, and a history class called 'Saints, Sinners, and Harlots.' It's about medieval women in central italy, and is proving to be an interesting class. One focus of the course is the importance of food in the lives of women, particularly religious women, so that should be interesting. I begin my second consecutive week of class tomorrow.

This past weekend saw a short day trip to a small city in Tuscany called Cortona. If anyone is familiar with the book Under the Tuscan Sun, that is where said book is set. We went on Saturday, which was foggy & chilly (Italy has proven to be much colder in the winter than I had initially thought; it's unfortunate, seeing as I didn't pack a winter coat. Whoops). We weren't there long, but we got a good tour of the inner city, had a lovely long lunch at a restaurant that offered authentic Tuscan cooking classes (lunch consisted of the best pasta I've yet had, lovely red wine, and great conversation). Following lunch, we slightly tipsily rolled our overstuffed selves to the Museo dell'Accademia Etrusca, or the Etruscan museum. It was a bit pricey (ten euro for entry) but we were the only ones there and the exhibits were lovely. We saw lots of ancient Etruscan artifacts (quick reminder that the Etruscans were the people who lived in Tuscany prior to the Roman Empire) and, weirdly, a lot of Egyptian artifacts. Not sure why a mummy was hanging out in Cortona, but to each their own.

Here are some photographs:

Perugia at night

the view from Umbra Institute

View of the acquaduct from my wanderings around Perugia

Next time I'll include photos of Assisi, Cortona, and a trip to the Orsini Family Farm as well as more of my rambles around Perugia!

Fimo alla prossima volta. Ciao,

Sophie

(Mis)Adventures

Right, let's get after it, shall we?

So my travels started last Tuesday.I left in the afternoon and arrived in Rome the following day after a solid 24 hours of travel. I was supposed to meet Dadasaurus Rex, the Ultimate Dad, while the Ultimate Mom stayed in Moldova on Wonder-Dog-Watch. To my complete surprise, both Ultimate parents showed up at the airport in Rome to meet me! They're pretty okay. We spent a lovely day and a half together, during which we ate ourselves silly, visited the Pantheon (which we kept accidentally referring to as the Parthenon), revisited the Colosseum and the Trevi Fountain, and again ate ourselves silly. Here are some photos:

Trevi Fountain

The Roman Forum

Visiting the Colosseum

Trevi Fountain again at night

On Friday morning, I made my way back to the FCO airport and met up with the group from Umbra Institute. They split us up into several groups throughout the day and sent us on to Perugia on coach buses. It was about a three hour bus ride through Tuscany toward Umbria, which was in parts lovely and depressing. We drove past some small centuries old towns and some run-down factory towns, so we got a wide variety of views. Our first night in Perugia was down the hill from the walled city center in a hotel, where we would meet our roommates and the other participants.
We got to the hotel around 5:30, checked in and got all of our information re: the upcoming orientation. Two of my flat mates, M & A, were sharing a hotel room with me. When I got up there, both had been sleeping off the jet lag so I explored the room by the lovely soft (read: blinding) light of my phone. There was a small balcony outside our room, so I thought I'd slip out there and see what I could of the city from it. I turned the door handle this way, then that way, then tugged. And that's when it came off in my hand.

It was a rough first night, if I'm being honest. I woke with a start around 4 am and couldn't fall back to sleep, which turned into me realizing that I had no idea what I was doing, and how scared I was. Homesickness is probably the worst sensation at 4 in the morning, especially when I thought about what exactly I would go home to if I left. There aren't many options for me, besides just going back to Gustavus, and I've established with myself that I need a solid break from campus. So that was out of the question, as was just going back to my house. What would I do, lounge around at home for four months? Not an option either. So the only option was to suck it up and realize that four months will go by rapidly, even if the clock at that moment was as sluggish as it had ever been. I hate admitting it out loud (ish), but for a couple hours there, all I wanted was just to go home.

Saturday definitely shook out the wrinkles in my mood. We finally met the rest of our roommates (there's a total of five) and were driven to our flat, which is up the hill and in the old city. I refer to it as the old city even though I'm not sure where the line of distinction is, because lower down where we spent the first night was definitely newer looking, though not necessarily attractive or clean. What a relief it was to learn that we were in the medieval part, where it was all weathered brick and ivy and aquaducts! We each have our own (very small) bedroom, with two bathrooms and a small kitchen. I got to do some exploration of the city both last night and this morning, and was in awe of the crumbling beauty of the city I am living in. Only issue: the flat is only heated for a few hours a day, so right now I can't feel my fingers.

We've had a couple minor issues with our flat so far, aside from the heating. The refrigerator sounds like it has an animal trapped inside it, which is charming and quiet (not). The toilet won't stop running. One of the bathroom sinks is perpetually clogged, and we just got here. Our second night was an adventure, because all of these problems arose on Sunday, our second day in the flat. Honeymoon period was over after 24 hours, I guess! It's not an adventure without misadventures, I suppose. Like our dinner last night: we all made pasta together, a sort of 'flat family dinner', only to discover that we bought tomato juice instead of pasta sauce. Ah well.

It was still a nice day overall though, we slept in and then went exploring round part of the town, trying to get 'lost.' It was incredible, we walked along a street called Via Acquaducto which was on top of, you guessed it, an old aquaduct. The buildings are all those lovely shabby shades of apricot and cream and pink, with blue and green shutters and ivy crawling all over the cracks in the cement.

Today we started a week of intensive Italian, and then next week classes begin! I'll update as that situation unfolds and include more photos as I take them. For now, that's it. It's 9 pm and I'm ready for bed. Is it too early? Never mind, I'm going to bed anyway. S'laters.

Hello, It Me.

Hello.
It me.
I hope you all had Adele running through your brains. Yes, my chums, it is ME, I have RETURNED!!!! Aren't you so so happy?! I know I am.
I am reactivating this blog as I embark on a study abroad adventure to Perugia, Italy. Where is that, you might be thinking? Well, I'll tell you. It's in Italy. In the, er, boot part.
I arrive on Wednesday the 6th, which is just a few short days away. My suitcase is packed(ish), my passports are updated, and I'm raring to go! This is not without the absence of nerves, of course; if I had my way and Apparition was a thing, I'd skip the whole gross 24 hours of travel thing. Still, I must get on. Live and let travel, as I always say.
Anyway, I just wanted to say Howdy; or ciao, as the Italian type say (or is that strictly used for goodbye? I know no Italian. Except wine. That is vino. See? I'm set), just in case you forgot that this was a thing. Don't worry. It's still a thing.

That is all, farewell until next time! Shan't be long, probably. Unless I forget to update, which is entirely within the realm of possibility. S'laters.