This may seem a bit obvious, but living in a foreign country truly teaches you to appreciate things that you may have otherwise taken for granted. In fact, I have realized that many aspects of my life back at home have become so second-nature, that I barely even think about them. For instance - the luxury of having a dishwasher and/or a dryer. These machines seemed naturally integral to any household, no matter how rich or poor. And yet they are nearly non-existent in Italy. However, these types of things have been some of the easiest to adjust to (shocker, I know). My roommates probably have the idea that I have been washing dishes by hand and air-drying all of my clothes my entire life. The idea of a microwave is alien, and God forbid you ever walk around the house - or anywhere for that matter - without some type of shoes on (no, socks don't count). If you plan on shopping during the hours of 1-4, be prepared to find your favorite store closed on any normal day for "la pausa," and wait, what exactly is tap water again? Tipping and sales tax are ludicrous - as is peanut butter - but opening your umbrella every 200 yards to cover your hair from the rain for the mere 15 steps you have to take to reach the next portico where you will undoubtedly remain dry for the next 200 yards is a perfectly acceptable practice.
Both strange and often comical, these tiny details of daily life here have brought to light a recognition for the way in which I have lived my own life for the past 20 years. Not to mention that paying attention to details becomes increasingly important when understanding the spoken language remains a task in itself. And though these things may be miniscule, they are equally significant. After all, it is often the little things in life that prove to be the most important. And despite all of these tiny, albeit innumerable adjustments, the thing I have found the most difficult has been the sense of being without a true home. Having a space to keep all of my personal belongings that doesn't involve a cloth box with zippers and wheels. I've missed familiarity. I've missed home. Before coming here, I was never really confronted with a genuine sense of homesickness. These were emotions I never really expected to encounter, but nonetheless did for the first time in my entire life. However, I am surprised every day by how much better I have been feeling about everything. About myself - my confidence, my new apartment, my roommates. In fact, I have finally gotten settled into what will be MY room until the end of June. I met my new roommate a few days ago and I really think we are going to get along great. I'm definitely optimistic about the future.
On Monday of this week, our classes at the University of Bologna also began. As of now I am taking a Contemporary Italian Literature class in addition to the History of Emilia-Romagna (which is the region in which Bologna is located). Through my BCSP program I will be taking an Italian political history class in addition to a mandatory grammar class, but those don't start for another week or two. Attending lectures Italian-style is truly an experience. The classes are longer, and the lessons are much less structured and organized. Essentially, the professor has the freedom and discretion to say and talk about whatever he or she deems appropriate. And everything is fair game. I'm pleasantly surprised by how much I have been able to understand, but it will nonetheless take some getting used to. Punctuality is yet another American custom that seems to be lost on the Italians. Class may be scheduled to commence promptly at 9:00, but it is highly unlikely that even the professor will show up before 9:15. Suffice it to say the hours are a bit more "flexible" here.
But then again, would you expect anything else from a culture that prides itself on the art of enjoyment?
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