My Little Loaf

A Carafe, that is a Blind Glass

2011-09-17T20:37:00.000-07:00

A kind in glass and a cousin, a spectacle and nothing strange a single hurt color and an arrangement in a system to pointing. All this and not ordinary, not unordered in not resembling. The difference is spreading.

-Gertrude Stein

In a Station of the Metro

2011-09-15T21:51:00.000-07:00

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
petals on a wet, black bough.

-Ezra Pound

loafin'

2011-09-14T21:16:00.000-07:00

this blog originally served as a place to write about my time living in Florence, Italy. now i plan on using it to unwind after work and make note of things i find interesting

where did the time go?

2009-12-08T09:24:00.000-08:00

Being a pedestrian in Italy is not as dangerous a venture as it once seemed. When I first arrived in Florence I spent a lot of time waiting on the sidewalk for an appropriate gap between zooming cars to cross the street. Then I progressed to edging out into the street expecting the cars to slow down once they saw me hesitantly attempt to cross. But no, stalling on the periphery of the road only garners car horns, or with some of the more spirited drivers, an acceleration of their car so that it tears down the street at an even quicker rate edging me back to the sidewalk.
I can barely believe I leave in three days. Now, I’m accustomed to darting across a street with a car going full speed at me. There is an understanding between Italian drivers and pedestrian that neither slow down, you just make sure one of you is going fast enough to avoid crashing into the other. It’s a mini jolt of adrenaline to confidently strut into a road and know that as long as I’m visible, the zipping mopeds, bikes, or cars won’t hit me. It is just the way things are in Italia. This habit however will not be brought back to America, because I know drivers in the States are not used to this pedestrian dance. If I attempt to dash out in the street of merica, careless of crosswalks, I would probably be hit by a large SUV, which by the way are non-existent in Italy.

un altro giro di giostra

2009-11-16T09:30:00.000-08:00

"One doesn't come to Italy for niceness, one comes for life"

“The well-known world had broken up, and there emerged Florence, a magic city where people thought and did the most extraordinary things”

-A Room with a View

hospital de San Pau

2009-11-02T08:18:00.000-08:00

designed by Catalan Modernisme architect Lluís Domènech i Montaner in the early 1900s. This building complex was only about a ten minute walk away from the hostel I stayed at. Incredible!

la boqueria

2009-11-02T08:11:00.000-08:00

central market of barcelona

culture "shock"

2009-10-29T10:51:00.000-07:00

On a whim, I flipped through our ACM Student Handbook today. I paused to review the section “Culture Shock.” It was the first time I opened the handbook since summer and I don’t remember penning “how different could Italy be?!” in the adjacent margin. I guess during the summer, when Florence was still an unknown distant place, I could not fathom the possibility of experiencing culture shock in Italy.

I think the label “culture shock” is what misled me. I perceived “culture shock” as meaning literally being shocked by new customs or traditions. I think I would have tried to steel myself more to the prospect of experiencing “culture shock” if I had felt like Italy would be radically different from America. But from a glance I naively believed them to be similar enough to think myself immune. I think instead of being called “culture shock” it should be titled something more like “culture astonishment.” The subtle yet very real differences between the States and Italy have crept up on me. Lately I’ve been feeling irritated by daily events which have begun to slowly grind on my efforts to be positive.

Before rereading this section from the handbook I was at a loss of words to describe or pinpoint what was bringing me down.

From the handbook:
Distinctive Features of Culture Shock:
“Culture shock does not result from a specific event or a series of events. Instead, culture shock comes from encountering different ways of doing, organizing, perceiving or valuing which threaten your basic, unconscious belief that your encultured customs, assumptions, values and behaviors are right.”
“culture shock does not strike suddenly or have a single principal cause. Instead the cumulative effects build up slowly, from a series of small, difficult-to-identify events.”

Sources of Culture Shock:
“Continually experiencing situations in which you are expected to function with maximum skill and speed, but without adequately explained rules”
“Being cut off from familiar cultural cues and patterns, especially the subtle, indirect ways you normally express feelings. All the nuances and shades of meaning that you instinctively understand and that make your life comprehensible are suddenly taken away.”
“Living, studying or working over an extended period of time in an ambiguous situation”

ACM truly did a fantastic job with this section. I wish I had taken better heed of its wisdom. However reading something, does not necessarily equate with comprehending it. And to be honest, I never could have understood this passage during the summer, while I was in the utmost comfort of my home, until I began to actually experience some of these emotions.

it's a matter of opening the door. but where's the key?

2009-10-26T09:07:00.000-07:00

Well I’ve done quite the sporadic job of maintaining this blog. Originally I made a hazy goal of updating at least once a week, but now I see that was an unrealistic expectation. The primary explanation for why I’ve posted so few entries is because of the electric speed with which time has jolted by. I’ve been so busy with class and life here that I’ve barely processed my experiences, let alone had a moment to write my thoughts down. However our midterm break provided a much needed chunk of free time, in which I did some serious evaluation of my first two months abroad.

I was at a particularly low point ten days ago before the break. I felt like an abject failure in terms of my Italian speaking skills. There were many contributing factors to that sentiment, but the main reason provoking this disheartening conclusion, was a particular conversation in Italian held with some students from the Elementary class. It was utterly frustrating to feel like my Italian was only moderately stronger than theirs. I’ve been studying Italian for a year, while they have only taken a month-long intensive course! I’m glad for their quick grasp of the language, and need to take into account their fluency in Spanish, but I still can not help feeling upset that I haven't had a similar drastic improvement. What exactly is it that’s holding me back? Why don’t I have better proficiency in speaking Italian yet?? Ugh. Grammatically I’ve improved, but what I can write on paper doesn't come as easily when attempting an actual conversation with a person.
Maybe I placed too high of expectations on myself, but I still can’t help feeling that my spoken Italian has plateau-ed to some degree. It is difficult for me to envision the near-fluency that I hoped to achieve by the end of this semester.

However, when it hit me today that I have less than two months here, it makes me all the more motivated to work even harder at getting my Italian to the level I want it to be. Part of the challenge will be to somehow foster friendships with Italians- which has proven to be more difficult than I realized (that topic in and of itself deserves its own post to go into more detail about later).

Va bene, well after that little rant, I have lots of reading to catch up on but will try to devote an entry later in the week to actually discussing how my midterm break in Barcelona and Prague went. All in all I'm staying positive and have more to loaf about soon!

contemplative mood

2009-10-08T08:33:00.000-07:00

"Alas, ye generations of men, how mere a shadow do I count your life!
Where, where is the mortal who wins more of happiness than just the seeming,
and, after the semblance, a falling away?"

-chorus in Oedipus Rex

And did I mention I have an affinity for doorknobs?

2009-09-10T03:54:00.000-07:00

One of the most visually immediate differences between Florence and cities in the States is the presence of so many old buildings. Sure New England has historic neighborhoods with buildings from the late 1700s, but that pales in comparison to the archaic heaviness felt here in Florence. Although the current cobblestones and majority of buildings are not actually authentic structures from the 1300s they maintain the appearance of age. A subtle way the city manifests its’ “oldness,” is from the prevalence of intricate metal doorknockers.

These pictures are of interesting knockers I’ve noticed thus far during my wanderings.

Every time I happen upon one of them it is like finding a little treasure.

This one especially out does the others in terms of elaborateness

but probably my favorite is the simpler woman (man?) with the mouthful of metal.

Traveling, traveling, traveling, looking for something what can it be?

2009-09-04T04:18:00.000-07:00

A few days late because of lack of Internet access, this post is what I wrote after finally arriving in Italy:

August 30^th

What a day.

After staying up till 3am on Friday night to finish packing, this morning mom stepped up onto our scale, subtracted her weight, and told me that my suitcase was over the 50 pound weight limit. I frantically redistributed things from my large suitcase to a smaller one as my dad yelled up to my room “Ready yet!? We should already be out the door by now and on our way to the airport.” A combination of getting flustered by this, then running about the house last minute grabbing forgotten but vital items, discovering a broken zipper on the pair of jeans I wanted to wear for the flight, and finally realizing that I wouldn’t see my family for over three months all welled up in me and I burst into sobs as I struggled to drag that damn heavy suitcase down the stairs. I momentarily lost it. For a minute or two, the flood of tears overpowered my vision and I could not speak because of all my blubbering and body wracking heaves. Disabled by my sudden fit, dad took the suitcase the rest of the way to the car.

I did not anticipate getting this upset before my departure and the intensity of my emotions took me completely surprise.

No one talked in the car ride to the airport and to fill the space between us we listened to Leo Kottke One Guitar, No Vocals. Then once regaining composure I said goodbye to my family. The next time I’ll receive hugs from them with the distinctive green and purple Portland Airport carpet under my feet won’t be until mid December.

On the flight over from the States to Frankfurt, an elderly woman sat next to me. We didn’t speak to each other until over halfway through the flight when she couldn’t figure out how to use her personal TV screen and finally resorted to asking me for assistance. As we began talking, Liza (pronounced “lee-sah”) told me that she is Croatian and from the region of Dalmatia, which she told me is where the Dalmatian breed of dogs first originated. After chatting with me for less than 5 minutes, Liza gave me her passport to write down her first and last name and told me I must come visit her and her husband at their home on an island. She had not even asked for my name before offering me such hospitality. I felt very uncomfortable however and tried to evade Liza’s insistence that I come visit. Still, Liza’s convinced I’m “such a sweeeet girl” and wrote out her phone number and said I must call her if I’m ever in Croatia during my travels in Europe. Eventually she asked for my name, which I gladly provided. We made sporadic small talk for the rest of the flight. She told me how she had lived in Portland for 8 years and gone to PSU when she was young. Now she has a brother and sister who still live there and who she’d just been visiting. Liza also listed about 5 Oregon governors, none of which I had ever heard of. Either my knowledge of Oregon history is very incomplete or Liza had somewhat faulty memory.

At one point, I asked “What breed of dog do you have?” Liza responded, “it is a mutton.” Probably the highlight of my day.

In the Frankfurt airport I was struck with the flood of diversity streaming around me as I walked towards the security line. Hearing such a wide variety of languages enlivened me from the stupor of sleeping on the plane. I felt a strange compulsion not to speak so as not to reveal my American identity around all these intriguing people. Then again I did not really even have anyone to talk to, and was painfully aware of my singularity against the families surrounding me. Even all the businessmen seemed to at least have one partner traveling with them. For the first time the buckle of my belt set off the sensitive metal detector, and I got a full pat down for the first time. It was somewhat embarrassing and uncomfortable to have a stranger’s hands searching over almost every part of my body, to say the least.

Customs in the Florence Airport consisted of smiling at the two security guards and walking through the exit without having anything to declare.

After leaving Portland Saturday morning, many hours later and an ocean apart, I finally arrived at Pensione Ottaviani on Sunday afternoon. If I had not set an alarm for dinner after settling into my room I probably would have slept through it and woken up hungry and disoriented at 4 in the morning because of the effects of jetlag. Luckily I did set an alarm and had a wonderful orientation dinner with the ACM group of students and professors. Meeting everyone in the program has been a somewhat overwhelming process, but by now I have everyone’s names remembered. I can’t wait to get to know my peers better once we begin our elective courses.

A more modern canzone

2009-08-18T16:08:00.000-07:00

Penso che questa canzone sia molta carino sebbene il video sia un po'buffo. (I think this song is very cute although the video is a little silly)

take those glasses off Dalla, you take 'em off

2009-08-17T22:59:00.000-07:00

A classic:

WAIT FOR IT about 3:03 into the song "Vedi, vedi, vedi, vedi, vedi caro amico cosa bisogna inventare per poter riderci sopra, per continuare a sperare"

buonissimo

Compito per lunedi

2009-08-16T22:41:00.000-07:00

Esercizi dall'handout per il film Cinema Paradiso:

pg. 3 esercizio A e B
pg. 4 esercizio 2 vero o falso + Completa con la risposta giusta
pg. 5-6 Fornisci tu la risposta giusta
pg. 6 Dopo la Visione Che tipo di film è?

pg. 8-9 Spunti per la discussione orale- Spunti per la scrittura

Usate queste domande come guida per scrivere il vostro TEMA. Una pagina
e mezza. Usate le strutture del CONGIUNTIVO, CONDIZIONALE che abbiamo
studiato.

pg. 9-10-11 Aspetto grammaticale

Procrastination method of choice : l'internet

I am very glad I made the decision to take Second Year Italian at Portland State University over this summer. It is providing me with much needed language preparation for this upcoming semester. However, in a rush of excitement over the realization that I will be in Italy in less than 14 days, I decided to make this blog instead of first completing my homework for tomorrow morning!

I plan to use this blog to chronicle my experience in Italia and can't wait for the adventures to begin! Ok better finish up the rest of mio compito. Ciao