But I thought foreign students didn't have to read that book....

What have I been doing in the month of January? Well, classes don’t start until February/March (once again, a very indefinite time frame), so have been preparing myself for the one thing I’ve been dreading most since my arrival.

The oral exam.

My very first exam with the University of Bologna was on Wednesday. The topic: Contemporary Italian Literature. A class I finished at the beginning of November, so I was definitely nervous.           

At 9 am, I was outside Professor Bazzochi’s office shoved into the hallway with 80 other students signed up to take the exam. I was not actually able to sign up online because I only took his course for half credit. So as he went through the list calling each name to see who showed up, I waited anxiously to shove my way to the front and sign a piece of paper for the “fuori lista” (off the list) students.

“For those the last forty names I called please come back around noon. For those students off the list, we’re going to try to put you in the empty spaces of the students who don’t show up so please stay in this area.”

Great, I was going to sit in a hallway with 80 other panicking Italian students as I await my doom.

The exam took place inside Bazzochi’s tiny office. He also had three other assistants give exams with him. Not only would I have to speak thoughtfully and slowly. But some Italian kid would be sitting next to me doing the same thing. Talk about having trouble concentrating.

The first hour went by relatively fast. I spent it with my head bent down devouring my typed up notes. Some of the really enlightening information I managed to take down for the course included sentences like…

“ It is easier to understand a work from long ago than one that is piu vicino” (translation: closer)

“The passage is important because….what did he just say????” 

 "Finestissiasi????" (Not a real word in any language)

And…

“Egg metaphor: We are the yolk. Tradition is the shell.”

I was not feeling very confident.

My second hour in the hallway I decided to go to the bathroom. It was locked.

Third hour: I started to watch student reactions as they left the office. Some left without a word, others had very detailed discussions with their friends about the questions they were asked. This is completely normal for an Italian exam. Professors tend to rotate through the same 10 questions, so it’s very likely that your friends could help you out.

Every once in a while someone would burst out and shriek “Trenta!” to his/her friends. This means 30 or full points. For the American grading system, 30 and 29 are A’s, 28 is an A-, 27 is a B+, and 26 is a B. I had decided I would refuse anything under a 26 and just try it again at the end of February.

Hours 4 and 5, I took a lunch break. They were only on number 40 and it was starting to look like they were saving all the off the list students until the very end.

Those last few hours before they called my name were the worst. My palms were so clamy, I probably could have washed my hair in the sweat.

By the time they called my name, there were only 4 other people in the hallway. I had waited 7 hours. And it was finally my turn to fail.

I sat down across from one of the assistants. The girl. I heard she was nicer.

“Why don’t we start with a question that’s a little more complicated.”

(Nervous laugh) “Uh, ok.”

“Compare the two books Cristo si e’ fermato a Eboli and Sud e Magia.”

I froze.

“Foreign students didn’t have to read Sud e Magia…”

“Oh,  I know. Just tell me what you know from lecture.”

“Ummmm. Well….The author of Sud e Magia is De Martino. It’s about magic. That’s really it. Magic is also really important in Cristo.”

It went on like that for a while. I was struggling. But, she didn’t really seem to be listening. She cut me off several times to describe some things to me and kept looking around at her colleagues. I think she was just bored.

She also asked me about the sottoproletariato in Pasolini. I don’t know what that word means. Have you ever heard of the under-proletariat? So, I fudged through that one as well. When she asked me to describe a poem by Pasolini I simply said…

“In L’Appennino, Pasolini describes Italy from Lucca to Napoli…”

(Completely interuptting me) “Good, good that’s all I need.”

We finished the exam before I was really done talking. She smiled at me saying, you clearly read the books and speak very good Italian so I’m going to go ahead and give you full points.

A 30! I couldn’t believe I scraped a 30 out of that mess of nerves and what I thought was my worst Italian ever.

The moral of this story is that Italian exams make no sense. They make you wait all day, feeling like jumping off the building might be more productive, for an exam that only lasts five minutes. I was just lucky to go last. We’ll see how lucky I am next time.  

Le Vacanze

Two and a half years ago, I went on a trip that probably changed my life. 2 weeks in Italy. That was the culmination of my senior year of high school and also my initial studies of one of the most influential men in my life, Dante Alighieri. With the "Dante Club", I traveled to Rome, Siena, Florence, and Milan. I remember very vividly crying at the top of the Spanish steps with the overwhelming thought that I might never be able to come back.
Well, that was a silly thought wasn't it.
I went back to Rome over New Year's and I got to do it all again.
Look up into the Pantheon.
Walk through the Roman Forum.
Throw a coin in the Trevi Fountain.
How strange to think that the last time I did all these things, I was a journalism major studying Spanish with really long hair.
When I first started my search for a study abroad program, Rome was the place I had to be. I ultimately settled on Bologna because I couldn't find a program that fit what I was looking for. After going back, I am very happy with my decision.
Rome will always have a place in my heart, but between the tourists, the overly-theatrical Italian salesmen and the price, I don't think I have a place there.
I didn't speak a word of Italian the entire weekend. In every store, they would blatantly ignore my very clearly worded Italian and responded only in English. My meals there were not nearly as memorable as the delectable Spaccanapoli in Bologna. And the tourist attraction after attraction just felt fake. My jaw will always drop as I turn the corner to see the Pantheon in the midst of gelato shops and a Mcdonalds, but when a million other people are taking the exact same photo as you, it doesn't really feel special anymore.

 Me at the Coliseum. Making fun of other people's photos.

 Jumping in front of St. Peter's Basilica.

On the other hand, New Years was probably the most authentic thing I did there. My group parked ourselves just off the steps of the Vittorio Emmanuele monument and watched as people poured into Piazza Venezia. After midnight, we followed the crowd in a parade down Via Nazionale. Some girl grabbed my hand and wove me through the lines of people following her friends. When I asked her where we were going she just laughed and then shushed me. I decided it would be better if I let go...

Celebrating!

I spent the rest of my break traveling in Austria with Kyle. And unfortunately, I did a terrible job of documenting it. We spent time in Salzburg and Vienna, with one day of skiing. An interesting decision since Kyle had never ever skied before and we refused to pay for the pricey lessons. He spent most of the day on his butt....

I discovered that Austrians all speak English. A trend I'm starting to find in so many other places in Europe that aren't Italy. Once you get out of Rome and Florence, Italians have a very poor practical knowledge of the language. But then again, how can they really learn how to speak it when they sit in lecture halls with 300 other students and every American movie or show is dubbed instead of subtitled. Either the system isn't working, or some people just don't want to learn it or are intimidated by it.  Sometimes I don't blame them. When my roommate tries to imitate my American accent, she makes me sound like a cave-man who has rocks in his mouth. I love speaking Italian. It's such a beautiful language in such a beautiful country, I think everyone should come here and try it for themselves. Maybe even skipping over the cheesy photos of the Coliseum and the over-priced tourist menu.

The New Digs

After a full month of awkwardly avoiding the roommates in my old apartment, I can finally announce that I have a brand new place to call home!! The move over here though definitely doesn't deserve any exclamation points. Since I'm too cheap for a cab, I decided that one trip on the bus should do it. Between me and Kyle we attempted to load three rolly suitcases, three backpacks, a duffel bag, a grocery bag full of hangers and a precariously positioned bag of textbooks onto public transportation. I'm surprised we got off at all. When the bus abruptly halted to its first stop, the bag full of hangers spilled onto the floor. The second stop a suitcase rolled away down the bus as we were trying to pick up the hangers. And at our stop, the bag of books ripped and fell into the street. I guess it's better than having half of them fall in the bus as it drives away.
Despite the harrowing move, my new apartment makes my old apartment look like the hole that Voldemort crawled out of. I moved from an apartment with five other Italians to basically the same situation. In my new place we have Francesco, Alessandro, Laura, Marco, and Cristina who I will be sharing a room with. She's in her second year studying Geography and she has curly hair like me! There are five rooms in the apartment and ours is the only double.

Here we have my room. I would like to point out that there is actually space for two normal sides beds! I am convinced that the mattress for my last bed came from someone's childhood crib. My bed is the red one. I made an effort to decorate this time around. I think it's a sign that I'm meant to be here.

 Here, we have a desk. Normally, this would not be that exciting, but at my old place, we didn't have two desks until the beginning of December. Now I actually have a place to sit that isn't my bed! And it's a rolly chair!

 This armoire is twice the size of my last one. And it also isn't about to collapse. What a plus!

 Here we have the main entrance hallway. There are several other hallways in the apartment that I figured no one wants to look at that badly. This one is especially impressive though because of it's size. Most Italian apartments don't even have a living room. I, on the other had have a hallway big enough to house a family of three!

 Ta-dah! The gigantic living room. Probably three times the size of my last one and about as big as a decent size two person apartment. The room also features a fire place, a futon, an actual bed, an extra desk, and a dinner table big enough for all my extended family.

 While this bathroom picture isn't all that impressive, there are several things to note here. 1. There is no mold. 2. The toilet works. 3. There is actually a full bath tub in here as well as a separate shower. 4. This isn't the only bathroom in the apartment!
I went from one six person apartment to another and having a second bathroom makes all the difference.

 Here we have an actual pantry, with two extra refrigerators and a freezer. I have a cupboard and shelves in the fridge. Food just kind of sat everywhere in my old place. On the counters, in the sink, on the floor, in the bathroom....

Here we have the kitchen. If you check out the picture from my kitchen two posts ago you will clearly be able to see that this new kitchen was built for grown-ups and not for a Kitchen Little set.

Look at that! We have a dishwasher! It actually washes the dishes for you! I have yet to see a real dishwasher in Italy. Even the family I babysit for doesn't have one. How one of these far too unappreciated appliances ended up in a student house I will never know.

 I have a balcony! Not the best view, but I can sit out there any time I want.

 The view from my window. I have no idea what church that is, but isn't it pretty? My location is fabulous. I went from living outside of the city walls to Via Zamboni, the main university street in the center of the city. Along with this comes the sweet lulling sounds of student life. My room is right above a rowdy Irish Pub. Last night, I fell asleep with the soft serenade of drunk Italians who had somehow gotten a hold of a megaphone. This may be the only downside to the apartment. I like to see it as I'll never be bored on a Saturday night.

My final image is a picture of my keys. I am only posting this because when I showed them to my sisters, all I heard of Skype was, "OMYGOSHTHOSEARESOOOCOOOL!" It's only appropriate that my cool new apartment should have a cool set of keys.  They're opening the door (literally) to a much cooler semester.