Pace Italia

General Relativity is a concept I'm less than familiar with. Physics fucked with my mind just as much as about anything in my life thus far. However, the concepts introduced within this impossible course resonated with me on a purely philosophical level. The mathematics and logical reasoning was a different story. Namely the concept of time dilation and gravitational time delay particularly grabbed hold of me. Based upon the general relativity principalities, time is far from the static measure we think it is. Time bends on a parallel with space, dependent on the gravitational realities that exist externally. This meant different things to different people, but it had a profound effect on my own reality.

On a parallel with any change, such as my cultural and linguistic immersion into Italy, this realization shattered many of my opinions or things I viewed as cultural invariables. If time wasn't static, what in my life could I say was? If Italians think in the Italian language, does that mean they conceptualize life differently? I delve into the physics segue because these things have become increasingly important within my experience here in Italy.

I have approximately 3 days until I depart. The common idiom tells me that "time flies when you're having fun." Yes, in retrospect it seems like yesterday when I arrived in Italy. I can take a honest, hard look at the things I've done and still feel the scope of time elusive. I'm left with the feeling that that which I cannot place a finger on has therefore become a void. So can I say time has flown by through the intellectually invigorating 4 months in Italy? Is it my perspective that is correct presumably based upon my own cultural upbringing and value system, or is it "time" that is correct? Four months is four months.

When I think about this, particularly within my current concept, I find it necessary to step back from the mindfuck that I have flung around just now and try to take a deep breath. I cannot say my experience in Italy is good or bad. There is no immediate value assignment reaction. Social pressures instruct me to formulate an opinion but I can cite only what has happened. The isolated instances I have chronicled in this blog are real and honest. The emotions portrayed within are real within the moment. But for example, at the soccer match, I felt a welling of pride. This is a fact. My journey is a set of facts that contain emotional charge within.

What does this mean for me? How can I say I don't have an opinion about Italy? I am changed, no doubt and this is where the concept of time is important to my experience. Time, I realize, isn't the factor in this equation, but it is the change found introspectively. Change, fluidity, motion, movement.

It is this reworking that I can and do realize to an extent. It is a constant revolution with an introspective genesis. Is my acquisition of basic Italian positive? I can only say that I have changed to gain that knowledge. Where once there was a void, now I can say "Ciao, mi chiama Galen. Come stai? Piacere."

I'm caught in this network of questions and hesitations. Right now is a moment within my experience. I feel lost. separated from who I really am. My life, like my blog, I see as segmented, scripted, convoluted and contradictory. But it's all honest. It's real data, real emotions and real life. As I head back I have a lot to think about and most likely a lot more to share.

What's Real Pt. 1

Will you miss Italy? What will you miss most about Italy? I'll bet you miss home a lot. When do you leave? Will you come back? Do you want to come back? You understand a lot of Italian for only 4 months, I'm impressed. What did you say your favorite memory was? Would you say it was worth it to teach at the schools? What are some of the key differences between American and Italian schools? What do you thing about the crucifixes that hang in the classrooms? Really? You're Jewish? Ma lui è asiatico... molto confuso.

Why don't you go more places? You shouldn't stay at home, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. You really shouldn't worry about home right now. Just have fun. Why don't you want to come out tonight? Do you want to come to Rome with me? Lei dovrebbe vedere il cinqueterra. È bello.

Why don't you look like an American? Are you able to talk to the people at the Chinese market? I've heard America is a very racist place... We have a problem with crime in Parma... it is mostly the Africans who commit crime. Why do you want to just sit in your room and write? Want to go shopping?

Ti piace Parma? You like bigger cities like Los Angeles? Do you see celebrities at school like George Clooney? Do you surf? Can I have your autograph? Un ragazzo molto interessante... lui scrive poezia...

I wonder what he's thinking. I heard there's a lot he doesn't share with others. I heard he doesn't like the program. I heard he wants to go back to the states. I think he's too reliant on English. He doesn't try enough. I wonder... what he has back home. Why does he act the way he does? He's ready to leave I can tell... Che triste.

What do you want? Perche?

A Few Random Photos

Our lovely instructor Francesca at Centro Linguistico in L'Universita Di Parma. Francesca is almost solely responsible for our grammatical successes in Italy. Keeping to a strictly "only Italian" policy, she has taught me more of Italian in 4 months than I ever hoped to learn. Look, we even get to study Nutella!

Photo Credit: Alicia Bock


Cucinare is to cook. This is the kitchen in which most of my culinary experiments in Italy take place. In my experience amazing ranges are pretty ubiquitous in Italy. My house has a great 5 gas range complete with all the pans I could ever ask for. I have been attempting fusion cuisine through my newly learned Italian and knowledge of marinade based east Asian cuisine.

Photo Credit: Alicia Bock


In reference to my calcio experience in Parma. From me clockwise are friends Sarah, Bennett, Scott and Marita. We witnessed Italy defeat Cyprus 3-2 as you can see in the upper right hand corner scoreboard. We were seated behind the east goal in the midst of hundreds of other fans, young and old, all purporting their Italy with flags, scarves and jerseys.

Photo Credit: Sarah Lee

My First Parmesan Experience: A Snapshot

...Despite my ignorance unto questo formaggio, the texture was nonetheless bliss within my mouth. Rolling the glob around my mouth, I proceeded to bite into the cheese yet convinced of nothing. The consistency first and foremost surprised my palate. The firmness of the fresh cheese gave way nicely but altered occasionally from the rich sections, broken up by a certain crunchiness I could only compare to crispy wafers found within certain chocolate. But as I continued to chew the taste began to expand within my mouth quickly consuming my senses. At the start, the Parmesan is creamy, and provided an interesting sensation as the morsel broke down into smaller pieces. The sweet creamy flavor slowly expanded but was punctuated by the occasional spike of a certain essence I could almost point to as picante. Far from forgotten, the bit was soon fully consumed. It not only delighted my senses both with its outwardly pungent aroma and fantastically strong taste, but it whet my palate for the rest of the spread before me...

Out of Italia

I know this is supposed to be about Italy and Italian food and Italian people and Italian adventures. But, this is my first time on the European continent and I felt the need to explore. Thus, for fall break I headed for Barcelona, the social capital of Spain.

If I knew little of Italy and Italian culture, I knew virtually nothing of Spain. Yeah, yeah... Beckham played for Real Madrid where Christiano Ronaldo plays now alongside Karim Benzema and Kaka. Of course Barcelona has the epic Camp Nou, housing the football giants Lionel Messi, Zlatan Ibrahimovich and Pedro. But anyway, as you can see I define everything European by an international football standard.

Upon my arrival, keeping my relative ignorance in mind, I was immediately struck by a second bout of linguistic immersion. My mind had managed the difficult cold water bath of Italian immersion and had gradually adapted to the reality which I faced. Extricating myself from this relative comfort was far from simple. In my linguistically simple state of mind I would look at a person who didn't speak English and immediately turn to my 'go to' for the last 2 months: Italian.

"Cuantos personas?" the waiter would ask.
"Umm... tre... oh shit tres, TRES," would come the delayed answer.

This situation repeated itself multiple times with different words and different people. Although slightly embarrassing, I was quick to realize that Barcelona, like bigger Italian cities like Milan or Rome were much more used to tourists and bumbling English speakers. Through a pretty terrible creole of English, Italian and Spanish, we were able to navigate through the city with relative ease. Barcelona houses an excellent train/subway system providing easy access to all parts of the city.

Barcelona is an impressive city, visually and culturally. No doubt a modern city, there are still distinguishable districts based upon time period. The historic Gothic Cathedral loomed large over us immediately upon exit of the subway. Any thought that I had become jaded by the age and legacy of Italy's numerous monuments dissipated. Although some call the Cathedral ugly and a scar on the face of the city, it was nonetheless impressive in it's menacing stature. The statues lacked the intricate definition of those I had seen in Italy but the curvature, the stylistic dedication and the immense size created a whole new, equally stunning appeal.

I enjoy more than anything else, simply exploring a city, discovering the little niches and little details that the travel books don't mention. Like what color the trash cans are (blue), how many bikes there are (not as much as Italy) and how many annoying street vendors there are (a lot). What impressed me the most about Barcelona was it's balance of historical monuments, modern architecture and green spaces. In many ways, Barcelona could be a European melding of Seattle and Los Angeles. The sprawling and grand nature was much akin to LA while the emphasis on creating green space, easily walkable distances and open markets (the Boqueria was a lot of what Pike Place is to Seattle w/o the beautiful views) reminded me much of my own city.

Despite my language shortcomings, I felt very much at home within the city. Perhaps there were a few more tourist than I would have liked, but this was actually a city. Multi-ethnic, youth-friendly and exciting.

By the end of the trip, I was certainly ready to come back to Italy where I could order food in a restaurant with little problem. But language aside, the architecture was great, the city was greater and the tapas was the greatest. Barcelona didn't just offer me the chance to see another European city, but it allowed me a certain perspective on my experience in Italy. Before Italy, I had virtually no reference points via European neighbors. While my comparisons by American standard were certainly enlightening, a Spanish comparison brought a whole new perspective. Italy's individuality was certainly confirmed and if anything, the visit brought extra respect to both countries.

Venezia

This is Venice. Venice is a city of beauty, a city of water, a city of tourism and historically a city of mystery and wonder. Through the sands of time, Venice never played a central role in the development of Italy, but rather existed as a semi-independent adjunct to Padua, flourishing through the Italian occupation by the Visogoths and subsequently the Lombards.

Of course, I knew little of this prior to commencing my journey. The train over was dominated by the stereotypical tourist quick read on a combination of wikipedia pages and a DK travel guide. What I did know, however, equated to the typical tourist view of Venice: beautiful canals , benevolent and gracious gondolas graced with fine satin cushions and great squares filled with people and music. All of this was true, as with many of my assumptions regarding Italy in general. But just as with my general Italian sentiments prior to direct experience, Venice held many surprises and much unexpected depth to the knowledge I already had.

My junior year of high school I traveled to Washington DC for the first time. This was the first time I had been to our capital and since I hadn't yet traveled to Europe, the first encounter with anything of historical and political significance. I was relatively young and didn't know exactly what to expect but once there, I was able to extricate myself from the tight grasp of family and explore for myself. What I found, was not simply a series of monuments and engravings, but moreover a newfound method of perception. Previous thought on DC had been adorned by multitudes of outside influence, but as I explored myself, I was able to view everything as an organic unit, shaped and molded by the voices of countless patriots.

Gondolas in Venice were now not just a tourist trap, charging 120 Euro for a 50 minute boat ride, ferried through a predetermined set of canals with the precision and scripting of a Disney ride. No. Gondolas represented a historically singular mode of transportation defining a city unlike any other. San Marcos piazza was not simply home to overpriced restaurants and stands selling I <3 Venice t-shirts. No. Despite criticisms that Venice has become a tourist haven with no real culture remaining, I was able to find depth and moreover history in the streets of Venice. I stood next to bustling Japanese tourists attempting hurriedly to embark on the 8 Euro climb to the top of the clock tower. And as I read the signs depicting the history of the tower, its partial collapse and subsequent refurbishment, I was transported away from the hectic scene around me and into my own rapidly expanding portrait of the city.

As we watched the Murano glassblower expertly craft a horse out of a blob of molten silica within seconds, it paid off to not only think of the modern wonder that this man demonstrated, but again, his trade as the apex of his trade lineage. The careful touch and elegant beauty that we witnessed on Murano was the same elegance that fascinated and tempted Louis XIV in his egocentrism. The gleam of precision and passion in the glassblowers eyes and the amazement in ours were the very same as those emotions stirred in 1291 at the beginning of Murano's tradition.

I was sick for most of my visit to Venice, but the passions ignited within me were more than enough to maintain my interest. Whenever I visit a new location in Italy I can't help but to feel that zooming out sensation of relativity. The beauty of age and belittlement. And the binding spell of our interconnectedness. Even the hoards of tourists and the abundance of designer shops catering to rich out of towners, spoke to me. Everything in Italy has a story to tell. Everything here exists as a byproduct of a long line of actions and consequences. It fascinates me, the historical lineage and importance in Italy and it's modern manifestations.

Bringing it full circle, I discovered this, in strangely a popular video game (one of my favorites actually):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iZVZBfd-Vbs

Funny how the world decides to treat 'things of importance.' I think it's cool.

Andato a Toscana

For a typical American, the view of Italy is pretty ubiquitous. Few even know the difference between the south and the north. Thus, when describing my travels, I must rely solely on my descriptive ability and visuals in order to get across as much information about this diverse country as possible. With Tuscany and the walled city of Siena, this is not nearly as big of an issue.

As you train for Siena from Parma, you arrive in the general Tuscany region from Bologna via a series of underground tunnels. Sitting in my compartment, I felt my eyes droop from the monotony of any long journey. They ride through Emilia Romagna (where Parma and Bologna are located) was generally flat and characterized by agricultural abundance. We entered the tunnels somewhere outside of Bologna and not yet in Tuscany. Immediately upon exit, the previous haze of sleepiness disappeared almost instantaneously. Those who have experienced the rolling hills, full of vegetation and life know the thrill I felt. Leaving the soot and squalor of the train tunnel, I took in a deep breath full of life and oxygen and a general crispness I have only yet associated with Seattle in her own brilliance. The sun peaked over the horizon of the nearest knoll, casting long shadows upon countless valley communities. "Under the Tuscan sun..." I thought, quietly berating myself for epitomizing that 'typical American.' I had asked my host mother prior to departure "Ti piace Toscana?" "Ai! Toscana e bellisima!" was the response. "Davvero..."

I progressed around, under and through the countless hills and finally arrived at the Siena train station, outside the general city limits. We then proceeded to the city. Siena, I was told, typifies a northern Italian gothic era city. Unlike Parma, which had its roots set as an ancient Roman city, Siena developed as one of many small city states stretching the western shores of Italy. Built upon one of the foremost hills, Siena certainly struck me as magnificent. We walked to the large fortezza on the northeast wall of the city. I was amused. What was once a fortezza against Firenze now housed jazz concerts, strolling couples and a sign reading 'Wine Bar, this way'. In Centro, called 'Campo,' the 17 'Contradas' paraded with drummers and flags looking much akin to pictures I had seen of the Swiss Guard. Contradas, I soon learned, are based upon the 17 different regions of Siena and were originally assigned according to lineage and trade. Now, existing in a traditional sense, each contrada takes pride in their flag, exhibiting their fervor in the form of parades and a bi-annual bareback horse race... Tired from walking and withered, I downed an energy drink. This was the beginning.

Day gave way to night and the city unveiled her other half. Cities, even the ones you hail from and know like the back of your hand, change face at night. Everything open in the day, closes. Conversely, new venues usher in patrons only as the sun sets. The shadows crossing the Campo lengthened as we sat eating pizza, eventually disappearing and with it, the warmth of the day.

The night was freddo and naturally the Americans turned to alcohol to provide the internal warmth. I was hence surprised to find that the art of 'shooters' was quite prevalent in Siena, something like home albeit with a semblance of class. 'Three shots for €5.' According to my friend, this was the best deal in town. Although we Americans were drinking in what we simply called 'the shot bar,' it was hardly there simply for tourists. A group of Italians next to us took pleasure in downing shot after shot while watching the U20 World Cup final between Ghana and Brazil. Perhaps it was the ever present American influence that gave rise to a new brand of "drinking to get drunk." Perhaps it was the natural evolution of European integration, Italy just now adapting to typical Eastern European standards, infamous the world over. Either way, the pleasure, warmth and culture of the bar was enticing and I enjoyed every minute.

The weekend in Siena provided me with many things, but first and foremost, it helped the development of prospective; a facet of understanding necessary for any cultural learning. Parma does not epitomize Italy. Parma is central to Italian culture as much as New York is to America. Although we know this on paper, traveling to Siena brought the personal experience necessary to bring those facts up from the semi-conscious world of book-knowledge to in-your-face-real-world knowledge. The thirst for new cities, new feelings and new culture now engulfs me more than ever. I'm provided Europe, replete with just this. But this is a craving never to be completely satisfied. And thus it is meant to be. It's what makes this journey special.