Parma
This is one of the main streets near the center plazza (Garibaldi). It serves as a high end shopping district as well as a hang out street for many of the Parma youth. As you can see above the storefronts, there are apartments lining both sides of the street. You better believe the people that live there have money. (They do. A lot.)

Photo Credit: Alicia Bock


A beautiful view up the river Parma to the west of Center. Not much of a river as you can tell. More of a trickle. Nevertheless, the river served as a border for the Parma Commune for much of its history. Parmaseans say that the only thing historically holding back Parma from becoming a large city such as Paris, Venice or London is the lack of water in the river.

Photo Credit: Alicia Bock


This was last night at a local club right outside of the city. The name from club in Italy is disco, if you refer to "a club" or "nightclub" in Italy, you are referencing what we call strip clubs. (Although a bit classier than Tropical Lei I would imagine) On Friday and Saturday nights, the disco is a very popular destination for young people, providing drinks, music and dancing.

Photo Credit: Maddie Grose

This is the center square in Parma called Piazza Garibaldi. You can see the statue of Garibaldi n the bottom right. To Northern Italy he is generally known as the unifyer of Italy, somewhat of a national hero. Much of the south, I am told, views him as a betrayer of the South; selling them out to the industrial power of the north.

Photo Credit: Maddie Grose

These are images of the Baptistry West door. Designed in the 13th century, the Baptistry served as a religious center for Parma allong with the large church just to the North (Duomo). Even from these pictures, you are able to see the intricacy and care put into each and every carving. Bar the doors (built in the 1800's) everything you see is from the 13th century. In the center is Christ surrounded by the 12 Apostles in the outer ring. Below Christ you can see the double wave, the symbol of baptism.


Photo Credit: Maddie Grose

Cheese 2009: Bra, Italy

So here's where it gets interesting. Bra, about a 45 minute train south of Torino. Bra is a small, unassuming city much like a smaller Parma with less glitz and designer shops. But once every other year, the city explodes in an international fervour. There are dialects of Italian even the most versed of Italian scholars cannot understand: Milanese, Parmasean and southern Italian tossed around the vendor's stands like a football. Americans, Brits, Aussies and even South Africans wander the streets, popping tasty morsels into waiting mouths. In this particular niche, Bra is the center of the world for 4 days. This is Cheese 2009.

Cheese 2009 is a biannual... well... cheese festival put on for the last 20 years. Now, it attracts world famous cheese vendors from across the world. Not only is it a venue in which cheese producers can market their product to the global community, but it presents a social attraction all across Europe. The love of the senses here is unlike anything I've seen in America. You don't have to love cheese, you just have to love tasting.

Travel was not gruling, but not enjoyable as I, accompanied by 3 others, took the 4.5 hour train ride from Parma to Torino. We arrived in Torino at approximately 11:00 to the unexpected hustle and bustle of a large city. I suppose I had never really thought of Torino anything larger than Parma. But I was mistaken. No one ever honks in Parma. They honk in Torino like they honk in New York. Walking to our hostel looked like an easy task on the city map. Half and hour later we checked in and prepared for Cheese.

Cheese was put on by Slow Food, the same organization that exists in America, promoting sustainable living and generally organic practices in cooking and food consumption. But Cheese 2009 has no counterpart in America. The closest I can come to a parallel is a US Oktoberfest celebration. The enormity of people was what struck me first. The entirety of the city center was closed to moterists and filled instead with stands and tents for vendors. Most of these vendors, lined up and down the roads, had a sign above, advertising the company name with a card written in Italian and English below explaining the company and primary product. As we made our way, awestruck down literally, a hall of cheese, we sampled premier cheeses from across the globe. In 15 minutes I had consumed more brands and types of cheese than in the previous 21 years.

In somewhat of a sensory overload, we decided to investigate the rest of the affair. Cheese 2009, as we discovered, was much more than lines of stands. Workshops regarding sustainable farming, cheese and wine pairings and the making of cheese occured throughout the weekend. Many other products such as balsalmic vinegar, honey and beer had major representation. And street food could be found everywhere.

We jumped from cheese stand to cheese stand. Looking for souveniers, I sampled beer from approxmately 15 of the dozens of Italian and German breweries represented at Cheese. Communicating with the vendors was often an issue but with key words such as "chiaro" "scurro" and "bionda" I was able to determine enough.

It was bizzare for me to experience so much in such a short period of time. In the two days we were at the festival, my mind was blown time and time again. This was real cheese. The makers of the cheese that actually pretty much invented the variety, not the American knockoffs that do their best to imitate. French brie, Swiss gruyere and of course Parma's Parmigiano-Regiano. I had good beer. I had good wine. And I think my tastes may have even matured a bit in those 48 hours.

I'm pretty sure this is why I came here.

(Agro-)dolce Vita

Today is a bittersweet day. I find myself situated here in Parma, sitting on top of a privileged life. I am allowed not only to attend Pitzer, but to travel 6000 miles across the globe to a foreign country. And I'm here not just for the purpose of education but more so, simple fun and enjoyment. Most of the world's ~8 billion will never experience the wonders found beyond their own culture. Probably never get a chance to examine and understand the beauty of human diversity. Although trite, the realization never fails to hit me hard and fast: every day is a blessing. Pitzer is a blessing. Friends are a blessing. Semesters abroad in Italy are a blessing.

But after coming back from a weekend of wonderful food and multicultural convergence in Bra, I must pause and remember a person who embodied blessing.

Luke Rogers used to be a Pitzer student. He used to be a friend, a confidant and generally just a relaxed, chill presence within the extended Seattle and Pitzer communities. Once Luke was added to a scenario, his bold, wiry smile never failed to impress. Happy go lucky was an understatement when it came to Luke. While confusion with our summer storage unit hit all time highs in September 08, I was stressing a major way. Luke just looked at me and offered me a beer in his room to bring in the new school year. His unquestioning loyalty and pure love for new experience gained him respect and reciprocal friendliness across borders. When he smiled, we smiled.

One year ago yesterday the positive energy that Luke brought was inexplicably taken from us. He passed in a quick and painless manner, surrounded by good friends and good times.

One year ago we were different. We have lived a year without Luke directly in our lives. We are moving on. But we are moving on with a certain presence guiding us. He remains with us not as a living being, not as a drinking buddy or a beautiful face, but as a culmination of 19 years and a lifetime of loving interaction. Where ever I turn, I bring Luke with me and when we speak together, even when unrelated, Luke is there. Each and every interaction with Luke left an impression that will never leave our side. This is what we call a living legacy.

I'm doing a lot better than I was 6 months ago. I'm enjoying life. I'm enjoying being abroad for the second time in my life. And I'm looking forward to returning to the smiling faces of family and friends in Seattle and Claremont. I have always been hesitant and unsure with "I love you"s but I can say with certainty that I love this enigmatic life we are handed. Luke, to a large extent, taught me how.

Even when we break down as emotion overwhelms, we experience feeling as we are supposed to. We are living. We are laughing at his jokes, we are swooning at the melody of his voice, we are smiling at his unflinching charm and today, we are crying at his passing.


Luke Rogers

A Taste of Parma:

Duration: 2 weeks tomorrow.

Places Traveled: Just Parma but headed to Bra, Italy for Cheese 2009.

Food Eaten: A lot. Notably. FRESH parmasean cheese. Parma Ham (prosciutto). Ravioli w/ mixed ricotta, parmasean and nettles. It is not the complexity of the recipes that make them successful but the simplicity and quality of ingredient.

Language: Slow but steady. Monday through Thursday lessons from 9:30-12:00 taught only in Italian. As you probably know understanding is MUCH easier than speaking.

Family: Single mother Vivianna who has three children. Marco (23 anni) lives at home during the summer and is a 5th year medical student (out of 5 years) at University of Bologna (oldest in Europe). Both speak proficient English but ask me to correct them whenever they use incorrect grammar. I politely request the same...

Internet: Internet is still not ubiquitous throughout Parmesean households. Luckily I have solid broadband. Skype anyone? (glieberworth)

Weather: The weather has been generally hot for the first few weeks (25+) but has cooled recently and rained in the past few days. Reminds me of home minus the fact that it's very humid.

Entertainment: The youth of Parma entertain themselves through numerous social events, either seasonal or regular. There are speakers and concerts in streets and parks on weekends. On Friday all 18-25s head to Via Farini for a generally festive atmosphere wandering from wine bar to pub to restaurant, encountering familiar faces at every turn.

Problems: 1. Not as many people speak English as I assumed prior to departure. 2. Although I haven't encountered it directly, I am told some Parma residents are highly racist. 3. Most Parma residents especially towards the center are fairly well to do. My family described many as "snobbish." This, again, I haven't seen directly. 4. It is hard to meet Italians without language skills. This will improve. 5. Regrets about missing friends at Claremont.

Plans: I head to Bra this weekend for a cheese festival put on by Slow Food. (the same organization that appears in the US) The prosciutto festival comes to Parma in a few weeks for the closing days. This will be tasty. For fall break, I'm headed to Paris and perhaps Barcelona, both completely foreign places for me. Rome, Florence, Milan, Siena, Cinquaterra, Venice and Sicily are all in my sight as well. Alas, financial limitations will dictate how much is possible.

Questions? Let me know!

It's All Relative

Everywhere I see the past manifested in the present. Standing in Piazza Garibaldi, where the Roman forum of Parma used to exist, our instructor Claudio noted chronologically the aged edifices erected in the square. These buildings stood strong and intimidating before us and I imagined them half-completed; imagined the landscape if the tower that used to stand next to the palace was not destroyed in the war. The palace, still painted in the same 'gialla parma' as centuries ago, provided a pleasing background for an aged statue of the Garibaldi, the liberator and unifier of Italy, located in the center of the square. Even as I get accustomed to this new city, the dismissive attitude exhibited by many locals in the face of these historical treasures is still lost to me.

I've never lived in a city that exists so much in the past and yet remains a first-world, forward thinking city. Unlike much of the rest of the world, the United States remains ignorant to the presence of history. Obviously we have history, but the history I refer to reflects the Roman, Gothic and Renaissance influence on Italy. So when I gaze upon the ancient bridges of Commune di Parma, now underground, I cannot conceptualize time. I can understand that these things happened or were built at one point, but a chronological scale eludes me.

I'm getting closer to understanding the historical significance of this city. (The only one that resisted against the fascist regime, holding out for days before begrudgingly cooperating with Mussolini.) The more I learn, the more I'm fascinated. This is all new to me, but the awe doesn't always strike like lightening but more in waves. Either way, it's incredible.

No parlo Italiano

2nd period Japanese:

Ohayou gozaimasu Craig (ku-re-gu) sensei! I had taken three years of Japanese prior to entering my fourth year in Sophomore year of high school. After greeting and bowing to commence class, we soon progressed into daily language activities. This included Craig sensei telling us a story in Japanese for us to translate and write down. Today's story was a fairy tale about a farmer, or something similar. At one point she paused after an unfamiliar word (gokiburi) and proceeded to ask us if anyone knew what this word meant. Without hesitation I shouted "Cockroach!" across the room. This was correct. Craig sensei, whose English was subpar at best, smiled at me condescendingly, illiciting laughter from the classroom. "This he knows," sensei gestured to the class. "Perhaps you try this hard for other words..."

So this is pretty much a summary of my experience in foreign language. After 4 years of Japanese, I was barely conversational. This was most likely due to three factors. One: I did not like Craig sensei. Two: foreign languages have always befuddled me because English rules are so ingrained. And Three: I never applied myself as perhaps I should have. After two days of Italian instruction, two out of the three of these factors have already disappeared. I like our instructor Francesca. Although she speaks only in Italian, I am able to understand much from her demeanor and body language. In terms of Italian application, there is no choice this time. Surrounded by it constantly, Francesca speaks to us only in Italian, thereby forcing comprehension on some level. This leaves only one problem.

I've said this many times but I pride myself most on my ability to articulate what I am feeling at any given moment. The catch? I can only do it in English. Now surrounded by a society where English is a handy tool, not the prominent language, my skills in articulation are hung out to dry. Interacting with Italians and while in class, my lack of language skill has left me frustrated and embarrassed. I know exposing myself and taking chances are a direct prerequisite to linguistic success but I hate the perceived devolution in my intellect. But even in the first few days I have witnessed a slow expansion in comprehension. This, unlike the uncomfort associated with language, is a new feeling, singular to my experience with Italian. It's important to me that I learn how to harness this singularity and grasp the unique opportunity that's been handed to me by Pitzer College.

This is my goal for the next few weeks.

Beginnings

Its a Sunday today and I obviously still havent figured out how to write correctly on this computer yet. I see Lira (£) Euro (€) a bunch of other stuff (òàç§ùèé etc...) but cannot find an apostrophe to save my life. I suppose this could be an appropriate metaphor for my experience in the first week-ish in Parma. Just as with a new keyboard, the base reality and function is the same. Just as with the keys I type, the mannerisms and the western tendencies are the same here as in the United States. But as with the odd symbols and placement, the words, the tendancies and the underlying assumtions of the Italians are completely foreign. So I am able to write this post out with clarity, but it takes time and it takes a certain dedication that is not registered in a familiar American setting.

Theres so much to account for, even though Ive only been here for 4 days, two of which I think I was awake for. This being the first time abroad since Korea when I was 10, EVERYTHING is new. So well start from the beginning. The flight was gueling. I hate flying to California (a tame 3 hours) so the 10 hour flight was trying to say the least. I quickly made friends with a woman named Tiffany sitting next to me, however, who was from Mountlake Terrace. Funny enough, she attended school in California as well. Kind enough to let me share her screen and headphone port when mine inexplicably stopped working, Im pretty sure Tiffany saved me much sanity through watching Star Wars, The Hangover, The DaVinchi Code and Hannah Montana back to back to back to back.

The airport in Frankfurt was not as noteworthy as perhaps I supposed it would be. The food was noteably better (looking) than any food I have ever encountered in a US airport. But in my 3.5 hour layover, there was little memorable, perhaps because I was in a haze after 4 movies and no sleep. As an international hub, however, Frankfurt was buzzing. I heard more languages spoken then I had in the past year in the US. It was very odd to hear announcements first in German, then in English.

As anyone who has ever been abroad in a foreign country knows, the first few days are very humbling. Especially for an American, where, even if you know its wrong, English is taken as the hegemonic dialect. The immidiate, complete and utter immersion leaves you literally without words. Suddenly, for a person who prides himself on articulation, I was left with more to say than ever before, but lacking the skills to even make known the most basic of emotions. Encounters still leave me flustered and embarassed for my precieved ineptitude. Hopefully this will spur me to learn Italian that much more quickly. In the first few days the going has been slow but Ive learned quite a bit even if its simply picking out words from rapid Italian conversation. I know various words (mostly dirty: figa, catsu etc...) some phrases (no parlo italiano, mi dispiache) and colors (thank you rosetta stone.) So in conclusion, theres a long road ahead, starting tomorrow.

The food is great with many similarities to my own gastro experiences. It deserves a separate post to come...

So today I recover from a crazy introduction to night life in Parma consisting of eating, drinking and wandering the crowded downtown streets. My current task is to find a converter for my laptop, buy a soccer ball and get more sleep. I miss home and oddly I miss the Inland Empire (permission to hit me when Im back...) I know this is inevitable and potentially shortlived but to all at home and school: be there when I come back. Ill have recipes, stories and much love.

Ciao

I havent slept in 30 hours and I think its starting to get to me maybe just a bit. Plus, this keyboard I cant find appropriate punctuation on. But as the sleepy eyes start to droop, the only thing that kept me awake was this new country. Ive riden a bus thousands of times, but not passing kilometer per hour signs and surrounded by only Italian language. Ill rest tonight and get my bearings, try to work out the imminent jet lag. But even as this was a day full of firsts for me, its just the beginning. The world opens up tomorrow.