A “reel” experience in Italy…

Piazza San Marco, Venice.

The Trevi Fountain, a dish of spaghetti, the Grand Canal, gondolas floating gracefully on the many canals, these sights and ideas about Italy were something I experienced long before my study abroad experience to Italy. Although I never visited a city abroad before, I had a picture painted in my head of what Italy would look like if I ever had the chance to visit. These ideas were shaped by the common American perceptions and different ideas that arise from watching films that are set in Italian cities. Over the summer, prior to my study abroad visit to Italy and Turkey, and throughout the weeks after my participation in the program, I researched the difference between films’ depictions of the cities of Rome and Venice and compared them to the experiences I had while in these Italian cities.

Once I had arrived in Italy, I was instantly interested in comparing certain sights, like the Coliseum and the Spanish Steps in Rome and Piazza San Marco in Venice to what I had seen the films I watched, would they look the same in person? The excitement of having an idea of what Italy looked like, due to watching films, is kind of like watching a movie trailer before seeing a movie, the trailer gives you a good idea of what the movie will be like, but it doesn’t reveal everything, that’s what the films I watched prior to traveling did for me. They gave me a broad idea, but it would differ in some ways to what I experienced when I was on the Spanish Steps or standing on the Rialto Bridge in Venice looking out at the Grand Canal for the first time.

The Coliseum, Rome.

Many of the films I watched before my first visit to Italy told exciting stories about the cities of Rome and Venice, they created great excitement for me, a first time traveler, and someone who would be studying and living for a short time in these cities. They seemed to depict Rome and Venice as romantic places where adventures can happen for the common tourist. These cities would play host to a place where you could become immersed in a culture different than your own, especially for an English-speaking American, where the language that surrounds you would be Italian and the occasional English for those Italian who really want to speak and appeal to tourists who don’t have any idea how to pronounce a word of Italian. In Rome, you could indulge in delicious cuisines, while in Venice, stumble upon an Italian and find yourself falling in love with them during your stay in the city.

Many films manage to depict Rome and Venice accurately, but they don’t forget about the entertainment factor that they must uphold, as movies are a product of the entertainment business, after all. The experiences that characters have in films may not be as accurate or true to the experience I had in these cities because they’re a part of a film, a narrative, a story about a fictional character’s experience. The experience I had in Rome and Venice was my very own, however it was influenced by what I watched in many films, wanting to see certain sights, like the Trevi Fountain to throw my coin in, or visiting Piazza San Marco at night just to sit at a sidewalk café in the piazza, or even wanting to indulge in a whole pizza pie. I was influenced by films to have a comparable experience to what I may have analyzed in films, the idea of being able to relate to a character that is similar to myself, may not be unrealistic at all. However, the experience I had in Rome and Venice was one that would be appealing to many tourists, to people who have never seen Italy before because it captured the excitement of these beautiful cities and managed to live up to certain expectations that I’ve always had. Of course, I never imagined the pizza, spaghetti and gelato to be as good as it was, or for the famous sights to be as amazing as they were, once I learned more about them, but perhaps that’s one of the perks of actually seeing these cities instead of just watching a film about them.

My research gave me the desire to continue to explore similar media studies in my academic career, as I search to better understand how influential the media is and how it shapes our ideas about places we’ve never been to. The search to understand a place in its true light, or at least from my perspective is something I’m very fortunate to have had, as I had the opportunity to realize from my research and my study abroad experience. As I complete my research, I wonder what cities I can explore next and what films I can view to continue to paint pictures of the places I’ve never seen, until I see them for myself.

Experiences from Istanbul

After a long day of travel, we finally arrived in Istanbul.  As with all destinations during the program, I approached each one as a tabula rasa (blank slate) – with as few expectations as possible regarding what to expect when we arrived.  With that in mind, perhaps because some would arguably consider Istanbul (formerly Constantinople) the birthplace of Western Civilization; I was under the impression that we would once again step back in time to a place that looked like ancient Rome.  When we began our journey to the hotel where we would be spending the next five nights (the remainder of the program), I soon came to find that Istanbul was very different than I had imagined.  If you are of the belief that Istanbul is (at least one of) the birthplaces of Western Civilization, than you would not be surprised to hear that today it is a very western, modern city and very much reminded me of other large cities in the United States.  I do not wish to make such a generalization, but in my opinion, it was very easy to compare Istanbul to New York City – with some major exceptions which I will later describe in detail.  For some reason, my initial impression of Istanbul (less the mosques and city wall) was that it was a cross between Miami, FL and Hartford, CT, when evaluating the city during a crazy bus ride to our hotel through busy traffic.  I suppose that being a modern city is very fitting then, in that Istanbul is not stuck in one period of time, and it continues to evolve with other western cultures.

It was fairly late when we arrived at our hotel, and after checking in, the group was in search of a meal.  Istanbul is a city that has tripled its population in the past 10-years, so there is a lot of traffic and it is quite congested – a bit of a culture shock.  After walking a few blocks from our hotel, and being aggressively solicited by every restaurant host that we walked past, the group decided on an authentic Turkish restaurant where the only thing that I knew (with reasonable certainty) was that I had just ordered some sort of chicken.  To the best of my knowledge, I think most of the group felt fairly uncertain about what to expect when our meal arrived, and were concerned about the food not agreeing with our systems.  I was also unsure of the attitude of Turkish people toward Americans at this point, however my fears began to ease as a result of the friendly and exceptional service which we received.  After later evaluating many meals, I came to find that my initial impression of the servers at this restaurant was appropriate in that the Turkish have a very strong work ethic and really deliver what they promised.  Our meal of kebabs with vegetables and toasted flatbread soon arrived, which was quite delicious, and that was followed by Turkish tea afterwards.   The only part of our dining experience that seemed unusual that night was the amount of time it took to receive our bill (even after multiple requests).  I later came to find that for some reason this is very typical in Turkey, and it often times took longer to get the bill settled than it did to be served and eat the meal.

After a good dining experience, I was beginning to feel more comfortable being in Turkey, until I began to mull over something that happened during check-in at the hotel.  In order to obtain our room key, my roommate and I (as well as the rest of the group) were required to present our passports to the front desk clerk.  Initially, I thought that the clerk was going to make a copy and return the passports, however he kept them!  Perhaps due to being over-tired, I was rather upset by this and thoughts began to go through my head such as our passports being lost or sold on the black market.  This was another occasion where I definitely appreciated being in a faculty-led program, as our professors reassured the group that the practice of holding passports is standard procedure in that they have to be registered with the local police. We were also ensured that our passports would be returned to us in the morning (and they were).  Although I fully trusted my professor’s rationale, and I felt reassured, it is somewhat un-nerving being without your passport when in a foreign country.  This is because you cannot leave Turkey or enter your transfer or home airports without the passport being thoroughly scrutinized and approved.  Although I had no intention of leaving the program early, again due to being over-tired from travel, the prospect of being trapped in a foreign country makes you feel very homesick.  In addition, this experience helped me relate to some of our readings and discussion of religious toleration, namely during the holocaust.  I could empathize with the trust that many Jews put into figures of authority who required them to turn over different personal belongings (and likely identification), only to find out that they were fooled and would lose their rights and freedom.  I began to understand the rationale of how individuals or peoples can fall victim to figures of authority, when looking from the outside we may criticize their cooperation.  Of course once again I must clarify that there was no problem and our passports were returned the next morning.  I mention this instance so that if you are traveling and experience this, of course use skepticism and avoid leaving your passport if at all possible; however feel a bit more comfortable knowing that it is a standard procedure in many cities.

After a good night’s rest, we met with Umit, who would be our tour guide for the next two days.  Once again I must commend the Turkish work ethic, or at least that of Umit, because he went to great lengths to make sure that we understood the history of Istanbul as he explained it.  I was also very impressed with him in that he spoke Turkish, English, and Arabic fluently, and I believe one or two other languages.  It again became apparent to me during the program how disadvantaged many are in the US in that they only speak one language (including myself), and in a global economy how important it is to understand at least one other culture and language.

We were taken to Sultanhammet, which in my opinion is the Turkish version of St. Mark’s square in Venice.  It is home to the Blue Mosque and the Hagia Sophia, as well as some other artifacts.  In contrast to St. Mark’s , which as described in an earlier blog is very historical, Sultanhammet features more modern architecture which surround the historic sites, and has a more western feel.  We then toured the Blue Mosque, which was a very interesting and insightful experience for me as I had never been inside a mosque and did not know what to expect.  Before entering, we were required to remove our shoes, however were allowed to continue to wear socks.  Upon entering, I immediately began to notice some differences when compared to a church or cathedral.  Although the artwork in The Mosque was very beautiful, what was most outstanding was the absence of human figures.  The Mosque is lit by lights which hang down from a maze/web of chains, forming a new pattern inside.  In addition, there are no seats or an altar – just a podium where the mass is celebrated from.

After our tour of Sultanhammet, our guide took us for lunch at a Turkish restaurant where we were seated on the rooftop which was about four-stories above street level and overlooked the Bosporus River.  We once again had a delicious meal of kebabs, but what happened next was the first of what was perhaps the most significant cultural experience that I had in Turkey.  As we began to eat our lunch, all of a sudden we heard loud singing coming from the mosques, which can be heard across the entire city!  It is rather difficult to describe, but it is approximately a 20-minute ritual that consists of passages which last anywhere from about fifteen seconds to two minutes.  Initially, I did not know what this singing meant, and it might have even been a bit frightening not understanding the language or culture. It was at this point however that I once again appreciated our tour guide, as he explained that the singing is similar to church bells in that it worships God and calls people to pray.   In addition, he dispelled some misconceptions that I had about the Islam religion, and I came to realize that Muslims are extremely religious and peaceful people.  The singing occurs four times per day, and the orthodox Muslims go to the mosque each time they are called to worship – true devotion!

In contrast to our time in Italy, where to a certain extent I felt safe and comfortable navigating the city, in Istanbul I initially felt quite uncomfortable not being able to interpret signs, menus, or the language.  For example, at one point or another, each one of us was plagued with allergies during the program, and when we arrived in Istanbul, it was my turn. I sought cough medicine, however  I did not know where the pharmacy was, so I asked at the hotel front desk.  With the little English that the hotel clerk spoke, all I surmised  was that it was down the hill and approximately 100 meters on the left.  I walked about three blocks and did not find the pharmacy, so I walked back toward the hotel.  On the way, I found a medical equipment store (wheel chairs, oxygen, etc.) and asked the man if that was the pharmacy.  He pointed back down the hill, and I had the impression it was only a few doors down.  There was an old indoor shopping mall, so I thought maybe the pharmacy was inside, but did not know how to find it on the directory.  At this point, I was feeling extremely frustrated, and stupid.  I had been reading Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle, and this experience made me relate with the book’s Lithuanian characters when they arrived in Chicago and did not know how to find the stockyards (since the only English word they knew was Chicago)! Finally, I returned to the hotel, and again asked for directions, when the clerk this time wrote “eczane” on a slip of paper, which is Turkish for pharmacy.  That was extremely helpful, and it turned out that 100 meters was actually about six-blocks from the hotel!  In fact, it turns out that a pharmacy in Turkey, as well as Italy, uses a green cross (similar to the U.S. Red Cross symbol).  It is amazing how a simple task can quickly feel so overwhelming!

Throughout our time in Istanbul, we toured many fascinating sites, such as the Topkapi and Ottoman palaces, as well as an archaeological museum.  When touring the archaeological museum, I was once again amazed to find actual Mesopotamian artifacts which I had only read about in my Western Civilization course. We were also taken on a private Bosporus River cruise, which was quite fascinating in that on one side of the river was Europe, and on the other was Asia!  In addition to the educational points of interest in Istanbul, we also went to the Grand and Spice Bazaars, which are comparable to what we know as flea markets, with the exception that the sales people were much more forward.  It was difficult to shop, at most places in Istanbul, because if you showed the least bit of interest, the sales person would literally follow you as you walked away. Although both were interesting to see, I was most impressed with the Spice Bazaar in that the vendors offered very unique items (tea and spices), when compared to the typical flea market, counterfeit items offered at the Grand.  We also visited Taxim Square, which is basically a congested street with shops and restaurants, but reinforces the western feel of Istanbul (minus the singing coming from the mosques!).  Taxim also provided a great view of the city, and in my opinion was very representative of Istanbul in that it bridges the gap between old and new by nicely blending Turkish and western cultures.

What an amazing experience!

A City of Wonder…

I wanted to give myself a little time to fall back into place with my home life before reflecting on my time abroad. This meant readjusting to the time zone on the east coast. I figured it would take me a week or two for my experience abroad to really hit me, for the genuine reactions to free flow as I tried to reflect, but I didn’t need that much time to understand my time abroad. Above all, I realize I’m very humbled to have had the experiences that I had. As I talk about my experience to the people I returned home to, I almost can’t believe I’ve seen the things I’ve seen and had the chance to learn about Italy and Turkey while in Italy and Turkey. For me, it’s very humbling to reflect. I almost can’t believe I’ve had this experience happen to me, but that’s because it’s exactly what I wanted…I had always hoped I would study abroad and for it to happen now and at this point in my life, I can’t help but be humbled, extremely happy and, quite frankly, a little jet lagged.

Being abroad made me realize I have so much more to discover about the world. I find that each city tells a story, and I still have so many cities I’ve yet to see with so many stories that haven’t been told. I want to embrace this, I want to learn about the places I’ve only heard about and hear their true story and make something of it for myself. I’ve come to realize one of the beauties of traveling and seeing new places is that there are things you’ll discover along the way that are unique to you. Things that will speak directly to you in such a way that the impression they’ll leave will always remind you of where you’ve been. The things you’ll encounter don’t have to be big and grand in their make, nor do they have to sparkle, they just have to click with you in a way that makes your heart feel like you’re in the right place. For me, there was something so neat in the simple act of ordering a cappuccino in Italy and enjoying every sip of it. I marveled at the place I was in and the part of the world I was visiting. For me, a cappuccino anywhere else in the world will always remind me of the ones I had in Italy. Sure, this could have to do with my love for a good cup of coffee anywhere in the world, but in Italy, a cappuccino was so much more for me. It was a simple joy that made me so happy I didn’t have to rush on to the next part of my day, but instead could fully enjoy it sip by sip. When I was in Turkey, my eyes were drawn to the

A beautiful pattern in Istanbul

many patterns on textiles, ceilings, walls and the like. Each pattern was more beautiful than the next. When I went through my pictures from the program, I realized I had taken many photos of different patterns. At the time, I had just been taking pictures of everything around me trying to take in the sights with my camera and just for myself. I didn’t realize I had focused so much on patterns, but I guess there was something about them that fascinated me, something that made me want to search for these patterns to bring them back home with me. There was something about these beautiful patterns of Istanbul that were unlike any other that I’ve seen, and I know that I’ll look at patterns and prints with a different kind of eye upon returning from Turkey.

The experiences that I had abroad, both small and large, both planned and unplanned, can sum up a new kind of narrative that I can tell about the places I’ve seen. Italy is no longer a land of just pizza pies and the phrase “that’s amore” and Turkey isn’t a stop on “the Orient Express”. Instead, the experiences I’ve had will work to tell stories of these places that will differ from those of my classmates or even the other tourists who were waiting in the same line as me. I think that’s the beauty of being abroad, my story and the stories of these cities could very well be my favorite thing about my study abroad experience.

View of Piazza San Marco from Caffe Quadri

Of course, I had the opportunity to experience many amazing sights. One night in Venice, I insisted on taking a trip to St. Mark’s Square. I knew our time in Venice was drawing to a close and on our last night, what better place to be but Piazza San Marco. When you first arrive in Piazza San Marco, you almost become overwhelmed with the beauty of this area at night. You hear the sound of orchestra bands playing songs that you recognize and you see a softer side to the city of Venice. Before I even arrived in Venice, I knew I would be making a visit to Piazza San Marco at night.

The band at Caffe Quadri

For my film independent study, I watched several movies that take place in Venice and in some of them, the characters visit St. Mark’s Square at night. For Katharine Hepburn in Summertime, her visit to Piazza San Marco is so inviting she returns again another night. In the film, her character falls in love with an Italian man and you can see the way she views Venice as a city of romance. While in Piazza San Marco at Caffe Quadri, I seemed to view Venice more as a city of wonder. Even after being in this city for five days, I was still in wonder over the beautiful sights on a gondola on a canal, the small bridges that take you from one side to the other, and the little flower boxes that hang from so many homes. As I sipped my espresso and listened to the sounds of the band play, I became overwhelmed with happiness to be in this city that some people only dream of seeing. How could you not feel humbled to be in the presence of St. Mark’s Basilica and Doge’s Palace? These were even the stomping grounds of Casanova, and it’s here I found myself. I began to self-reflect, as I could hear another caffe’s band play “New York, New York”, in Venice, at this point, I’m so happy to have been where I’ve been because it’s led me to this place. Piazza San Marco is just a little thing that helps me put into perspective this bigger thing; my experience abroad and how grateful I am to have had this opportunity. As I try to settle in to home life again, I’m still in wonder as I think about the experiences I’ve had and the stories that I’ve been given to share with so many.

A Little More Turkish, A Little Less Tourist…

 

Our first night in Turkey, I had opened up the door of our hotel balcony only to hear a loud sound that seemed to echo through the air. Unsure of what it was, having never heard anything of this sort before; I looked at my roommates to see if they could make sense of what we were hearing. As we listened closer, we realized it was a call to prayer coming from one of the mosques somewhere in the city below. Although it was 8pm, call to prayer is something that we noticed would happen several times a day throughout the city of Istanbul. The following day when I had heard the sound of call to prayer again, I listened and watched in more amazement as Muslims answered this call to prayer by going to a mosque. We had been very close to the Blue Mosque at this time, and I came to realize that I wasn’t just experiencing the city of Istanbul visually but instead fully on all sensory levels.

 

To me, there was something very beautiful about hearing this religious experience, as opposed to just hearing about it. Call to prayer, soon after, became a very distinct sound of Istanbul that I will always associate the city with. Of course the sounds of a city are very different than the sights or the tastes. While in Italy, I came to associate the country with the sounds of an accordion down a side street and several vespas that would ride past you on either side of the road. Istanbul’s very distinct sound of call to prayer is something that relates to its prominent Muslim population. Although there are a great deal of mosques in the city of Istanbul, there are also places of worship for the Christian and Jewish populations.

 

 

It is custom in Istanbul for women who worship Muslim faith to wear veils as a sign of their religious beliefs and customs. When we visited the Blue Mosque, I wore modest and respectable attire and a veil, or head scarf that would cover my hair, shoulders and neck. As a woman, I was happy to comply with this sign of respect before entering a place of worship. Every person who entered the mosque, regardless of gender, had to take off their shoes. Being inside the Blue Mosque, with a veil on my head, gave me a strong sense of cultural and religious tolerance. As an American woman in Istanbul, I thought more about what Muslims and the people of Istanbul believe rather than my own personal beliefs and expressions. This was my attempt to genuinely experience the Muslim faith and the city of Istanbul. Even though I am unfamiliar with the faith, the languages of Turkish, Islam and Arabic, I was still able to make a connection inside the Blue Mosque and respect and experience this place of worship for all it means to so many people world-wide.

The girls of our group wearing veils before entering the Blue Mosque.

 

Over my days in Istanbul, I thought about what it means to be a woman in the city of Istanbul. In a place where most women are covered from head to toe with clothing and a veil, I wore my American threads modestly realizing this city was unlike any other I’ve ever experienced. I questioned why it was so difficult for me to adapt to this place where men and women would look at you and see someone so very different than what they were used to seeing. Sure, this happens everywhere you go in the world, whether you’re in a city not far from the one you call your own or half way around the world. But what I was feeling was so very different and I wondered if it was due to the difference in our ideologies. Of if I had crossed some kind of boundary when I entered Istanbul that varied so greatly from Italy and even America? Or if there was some kind of cultural norm here in Turkey that was much more pronounced than I had expected?

 

 It didn’t take me very long before I realized I would do everything I could to both blend in and remain who I was while in Turkey. To do this, I kept my eyes open to the clothing I was surrounded by both on the streets and in shop windows. I figured the clothing of local people would clue me in on what it means to be someone living in Turkey and the narrative it tries to tell about itself. I saw the women who wore veils typically in long pants and long sleeve shirts, however they wore veils on their heads that had some of the most beautiful prints. The prints of the head scarves revealed a personality behind the veil and a very free expression to be one’s self. In many of the shop windows, I saw beautiful tiles that had vibrant colors and many different shades of colors. On the streets, I noticed modern dress, or what we might see in America, as well as more customary dress, something that was related to one’s faith. In one neighborhood, Taksim Square, I even made the comparison in my mind that it felt a lot like New York City’s SoHo. The shops and the people gave me a very trendy vibe that I found comparable to what I’ve experienced in New York City. It was here that I felt even more comfortable to wear my clothes proudly and comfortably.

 

After a great deal of observation both on the street and within restaurants, I found comfort in wearing long pants, a sweater to cover my arms when it got cooler at night, and a scarf to cover my neck even when my shirt was appropriate. I didn’t just want to come to Turkey to see Turkey, I wanted to experience Turkey and meet the traditions and customs in the middle. As I mentioned, I didn’t just want to blend in to the culture here, instead I wanted to continue to be myself but also experience who I am on Turkish terms. By doing this, I’d feel the way a visitor to New York would after buying their first Sabrett on the street from a vendor… a little more Turkish and a little less tourist.

Days 7 and 8 – Florence/Venice

Before I begin my discussion about our final two days in Italy, I would like to address the gap in time between my posts and explain the reason for it.  In the United States, we are all very accustomed to having the internet and communication available on demand almost anytime we desire.  Although internet was available in Italy, we were dependent on public Wi-Fi hot spots, which the group soon came to realize are not always reliable, efficient, or free.  In general, much of the European computer technology that we encountered appeared to be about five-to-ten years out of date.  For example, some computers were still running Windows XP (perhaps a testimonial to this great program!) and did not always have ports for our camera cards.  It also appeared that most network servers were also of the same age, which may explain the delays and difficulty accessing the internet.  In addition, it also appeared that in some cases we were being blocked by a firewall, which limited access either partially or entirely to various sites.  Consistent with being somewhat behind the times, luckily most places we visited had internet cafe’s, but those also featured out-of-date technology.  To add to the difficulty, the computers were equipped with various international keyboards which made it very challenging to type, as well as find necessary symbols such as the @ for email and other various punctuation.

Often times, when a computer and network was available for use, our study schedule did not allow for the time or facilitate the mindset that was necessary for me to update my blog.  Given this, I was careful to keep a journal of my thoughts and experiences so that I may accurately describe my time abroad, when I had a computer and reliable network connection available.

Day seven of our trip was a re-scheduled free-day where most of the group took a side trip to Florence, which most notably is home to the Academia, which contains Michaelangelo’s David, and Brunelleschi’s Dome.  After about a four-hour ride on the Eurostar, upon arrival in Florence I once again recognized that we had stepped into a different time period – this time the Renaissance.  This was apparent in the different architecture which featured brighter colors and human images in both the sculpture and paintings.  It was also at this leg of our journey that I once again began to piece together and appreciate what I had learned in the classroom at King’s – this time primarily from my Western Civilization and Sculpture courses.  In Western Civilization, we learned about the Renaissance period and discussed the significance of The David in that it marked one of the first pieces of artwork which emphasize the human figure and suggest strong intellectual ability.  But seeing this (approximately) 17′ sculpture in person was much more meaningful and impressive than just seeing it in a textbook.  In addition, after completing a sculpture course, I took an interest in the detail and use of shadows in The David, as well as other figures at the Academia.  After attempting to make a symmetrical object out of relatively soft plaster in class, I could now appreciate the difficulty in carving this masterpiece out of such a hard material like marble.  After touring the rest of the Academia, I also learned how human sculptures are made and how masterpieces can be copied and scaled to any size – something that I will not be attempting anytime soon!

The architecture of Florence marked a shift from a medieval design to the Renaissance style which I described earlier.  I found this very significant in that with some imagination you go from the 14th to 15th century just by looking in a different direction.  Perhaps the most significant architectural accomplishment of that period was Brunelleschi’s Dome (The Duomo).   I distinctly remember the discussion of The Duomo in Dr. Clasby’s Western Civilization course last fall.  As a class, we read about how over 500-years ago, Brunelleschi built a self-supporting dome, which was of enormous proportions even by today’s standards.  The approximately 143 feet wide dome, was an engineering marvel and first of its kind.  I remember trying to appreciate this feat as we discussed in class, but seeing the dome in person made me truly appreciate what an accomplishment this project truly was.  I have experience working in building construction, so I could appreciate the enormity, logistics,  and craftsmanship which went into building this structure, and can only imagine the courage that the workers must have had while working on this experimental design.  After climbing the nearly 465 steps up, aside from being exhausted, I was somewhat afraid to step outside at the top of the 340-foot tall dome’s observation deck.  After a few moments however, I felt comfortable enough to walk around the perimeter and view the beautiful city below.

Being in Italy and experiencing all of the various time periods and architectural wonders, often times I was “waiting for the ride to be over” – as if I was at a theme park.  It was often surreal and sometimes overwhelming to experience the culture and all of the beautiful and mesmerizing sites.  After visiting The Duomo, I found it ironic that an over 500-year old structure provided more thrill and excitement for me than a modern theme park!

In the interest of ensuring an on-time arrival at the Venice airport, the next day we transferred to a hotel in Mestre’ – the Venice mainland.  After having visited four cities in Italy during the program, and getting the feel that they all told a story of a different time period, I began to feel that every city would feel older.  Upon arriving in Mestre’, it became apparent to me that signs of modern, western civilization are indeed in Italy.  Where in the lagoon of ancient Venice the only streets are canals, the mainland looks alot more like a western city – car dealers, modern hotels, restaurants, etc.  At that point I appreciated that a few days prior, we were able to enter ancient Venice via train and arrived to our hotel on foot.  This truly had the most dramatic feel of stepping back in time.

At the Mestre’ hotel, we had a group discussion of Roberto Bassi’s “Skirmishes on Lake Lagoda”, and the whole group was very excited that we would be embarking for Istanbul the next morning.

It’s All Turkish To Me…

Me in Hagia Sophia

When we arrived in Istanbul a few days ago, I found it very hard to believe I was in Turkey. I suddenly realized I would have to adjust to a new country, culture and environment rather quickly to fully understand and enjoy this new place during our time here.

In hindsight, I never realized how quickly I adjusted to Italy and each of the cities I got to visit and experience. I think the ability to adapt came from the moments in which I was lead to be outside of my comfort zone. It was when I was in them that I became most comfortable with the new country and environment I was in and found I was able to adjust.

As I attempt to adjust to Istanbul, Turkey, I begin to realize I may have to step away from my comfort zone in order to adjust and feel the most comfortable in this new place. Although I’m not quite sure how to step outside of the box that is my comfort zone, I’ve come to realize how unfamiliar I am with two things here in Istanbul: transportation and language. In many ways understanding the language will transport you to where you want to go in any country, but for me, I’m speaking in the most literal terms.

During our week in Italy, I realized how unfamiliar I was with public transportation and their version of the subway. In Rome, we would go on class “walkabouts” at night to different historical sites and jump on the metro. It was during these instances, as a group, that I personally realized how inexperienced I was with the means of transportation. Many local people take the metro and in any given ride from one stop to the next, you’re surrounded by a language that you can’t always understand. In many cases, it wasn’t just English or Italian, sometimes I could hear German, and sometimes I wasn’t even sure of what I was hearing. In any case, as I’d wait for our stop, I would listen to the conversations that surrounded me, much like the other passengers could listen to our English exchanges with one another. Even though I couldn’t understand the language, I desired to. I wanted to. Occasionally there would be a word or phrase I could pick up on, sometimes I would be able to understand bits and phrases of what the over-head voice would say.  When my ears were able to pick up a small amount of Italian at a time, I could feel my comfort level increase and my ability to adjust was much more natural. With time, I became more comfortable with public transportation and the people who surrounded me. We got to know the lines and the stops and could navigate our way around Rome. Although we did not experience as much public transportation in Venice, it was much more a matter of foot to street. In Venice, it took us a few days and several times across the same path before I found myself comfortable enough to navigate my way around Venice.  To get to know the area, I found looking into many store windows and keeping an eye out for memorable restaurants and stores, much to my surprise this helped me the most. In fact, one night, when I was on my way to St. Mark’s square with a very small group, we found ourselves slightly lost. This was only because we had walked down a street that we had never been down before. Since I was able to remember some of the displays I had seen in the store windows, having walked by them several times, we were able to find our way back…with the help of an Italian or two. It felt really great to be able to find our way back to our hotel on our own. Although an instance of this kind doesn’t seem like a big deal, at night piazzas look very similar to one another, and to me, it felt like a major accomplishment to find our way back. At the time, I had been very unsure about where I was, but this experience definitely helped me come into my comfort zone by putting me outside of my comfort zone. I was able to adjust to Venice.

As I reflect on my time in Italy and the way I adjusted to that country, I consider how and what it will take for me to adjust to Istanbul fully. In many ways, I think transportation and communication are two barriers that I look to overcome as a way to better adjust this city. Istanbul is absolutely beautiful, it feels like no other city that I’ve ever seen before, although it has attributes that remind me of New York City and what I imagine parts of Greece to be like. Since the city is so large and there are so many sights to see and learn about, we find ourselves using public transportation. I’d say this has been the most difficult thing for me to overcome since I’ve been abroad. I realize each time I step on the metro here in Turkey I’m among local people who are commuting like they would on any other day. Riding from one part of the city to another may not seem like a big deal, but I feel a leap outside of my comfort zone each time I do. As I politely take in the scene around me on each train, I wonder how American I appear to be. I recognize myself as being very American in Istanbul because of the communication barrier.

I never realized how much of a barrier there was in Italy because I felt well acquainted with the language, much to my surprise. Being able to understand basic phrases, question words, numbers, and polite expressions is a major help to any traveler. It wasn’t until we arrived in Istanbul that I realized the unfair advantage I had had in Italy. Here in Istanbul, Turkish is spoken all around me and I’m unable to recognize even a word of it. Even with a guide book’s pronunciations, it’s much more difficult than I could have ever imagined. I think a reason I’m having a harder time adjusting to Istanbul is because of the language barrier. I wonder how far outside of my comfort zone I will have to go, in terms of language, to fully feel adapted.

Many of the Turkish we encounter can understand some English, they’re able to answer your questions, greet you or ask you where you’re from. But from where I’m standing, I can’t even tell what they’re saying when they switch to Turkish. I feel a great desire to understand what people are saying and I wish that I could communicate with them. I never realized how much the verbal word really does tie people together.

Tonight at dinner, I encountered an instance of the communication barrier when we tried to ask for our check. We had a wonderful meal at a really great restaurant, but we, as Americans were unable to ask for anything in Turkish. On the flip side, our waiters were able to understand what we wanted to order, but exchange of conversation or any small request was much for difficult for them. In the process of asking for our check, we somehow asked for tea, and after talking to three different waiters to try to communicate, we realized we weren’t even able to meet in the middle to understand one another. Although we were able to pay for a very enjoyable meal, I found myself wondering why the barrier is so great when it comes to communication here in Turkey. I wonder if I’ll be able to pick up a Turkish word or two, or do my best to pronounce at least a simple phrase. I feel this kind of exchange will help me to fully adjust to Istanbul, if not fully, at least the way I want to…because until then, it’s all Turkish to me.

There’s No Place Like “Home”…

For five days, I’ve called Venice my home. My morning commute involved walking over a few bridges rather than driving over them like we would at home. Even in a quaint hotel, I came across a feeling, one that felt like home, and I soon realized that home doesn’t have to be just the place you stay for a while, but rather the place where you feel like you can stay for a while. Over my few days, this is what Venice became to me.

Inside the Ghetto Novo

During my time as a Venetian, we visited the Jewish Ghetto. A place I would come to better understand and appreciate even more as the time progressed. The ghetto is made of three sections, the Ghetto Vecchio (old), Ghetto Novo (new) and Ghetto Novissimo (the new new). When I had first passed through each of them I could appreciate their long history and what they stand for, but it wasn’t until the readings, the tours and even some Jewish breakfast, that I could sense some emotional attachment. I found myself attached to Venice, I seemed to have made some kind of connection with the city and I wasn’t quite sure how, but all I knew was that it felt like home and I didn’t want the time to come to say ciao!

When I took a day trip to Firenze or Florence, I realized I was calling Venice home even more naturally than I had done while in town. In Firenze, I had the chance to see the Duomo, a beautiful cathedral and the Ponte Vecchio, a bridge with houses/buildings right on it. The sights and sounds of another Italian city in the region of Tuscany were beautiful to experience. While we were there, I was reminded of my American sense of identity when two members of the cast of Jersey Shore were filming an episode for their new season. As I came across the filming, I put my antenna up and tried to absorb the experience for what it was. Naturally, as a Mass. Comm student, I saw it as something more than just filming. For me, it was greater awareness of the place I call home- the United States. This show has taken a similar path to my very own to also be in Florence, Italy, where American ways will be exposed to a city that has been exposed to rich, historical brilliance for centuries. As I walked through the crowd of people who were gathered to see the cast mates in front of the cameras, I observed the crowd. I was sure to listen closely and watch briefly, only to find that most of the Americans were stopped at this “road-side attraction” to see the sight. With cameras in hand and excitement in their voice, I listened to their excitement and wondered why Italians and other tourists seemed to pass the cast right by. To many, it was no big deal, but to some Americans it was more exciting than being in this amazing Renaissance city where Michael Angelo’s David resides. Curiously, I took the experience all in, even without ever seeing an episode of the show, Jersey Shore, and realized what this tiny event says about who we are as Americans. I feel like it speaks to our culture, whether it’s reflectively completely of the way of life in the States or not, people- American and all others alike- have been told some kind of story about the way they think Americans are. Whether the story is fact or fiction remains to be seen. As people try to figure out the story that could lie behind the show, Jersey Shore, I wonder about the story each city I visit tries to tell about itself. As it begins to tell its story, I do my best to sit back, listen and eagerly wonder what else is in store.

In Firenze, in front of the Ponte Vecchio

An American in Italy…

It’s been several days since we first arrived in Venice or Venezia, a city that’s surrounded by water and takes your breath away when you stop to gaze down one of the many canals that have a gondola or two slowly floating down it.

I wanted to give myself the chance to become adjusted to the Venetian lifestyle, to feel as though I’m a part of this small community even if only for a week or two. Each day on our way to a class meeting or historical site, I notice the many shops and the people who belong to each of them. Every day is the same, they greet people who pass by with a “ciao,” or an “hello” if they can really tell you’re an English speaking tourist, and they try to invite you to visit their store or have a bite to eat at their ristorante. Since our first day here, I’ve come to realize the daily routine of our little neighborhood and the shops and people who surround us. By passing by the same little places daily and knowing which bridge will take me to a designated location, it feels like I’ve come to be a part of Venice. I feel like I’ve finally adapted to this lifestyle and that in itself feels rewarding.

Each morning, a small group of us look for a place to get breakfast. Sometimes we take a walk over the bridge which is very close to us where we can find a cappuccino and croissant for a reasonable price. The woman at the counter can speak Italian and a little English and is quick to wait on you when you walk in the shop. Here in Italy, the culture for a bar, which is what we’d call a café or coffee shop back in the states, is to stay at the bar while you drink your cappuccino. This gives you the chance to enjoy each sip without having to run around with a reusable coffee cup container like I would on a normal day at home. Sometimes our morning breakfast leads us to the Jewish Getto, a place that we’ve come to know a little bit better since our first day in Venice. There’s a small bakery in the Ghetto Vecchio that smells of delicious baked goods. When you walk in the bakery, you feel like you’re a part of a community, and the place you’re in is a place where locals pass by and grab what they need on a regular basis. And it’s here we find ourselves intermingling. Even something of this sort gives me the chance to realize that I have this amazing opportunity by simply being here to become immersed in this city’s culture. A culture that is so very different than our own, but so incredibly willingly to extend an arm or two to me and make me feel as though I’m actually a part of it.

Being a part of a new culture has given me the chance to think about my own culture, the lifestyle that I’m most familiar with, the one I’ve always known, and to compare it to this new Italian culture that I’ve adapted to. Sometimes when we walk through a piazza or pass over a bridge I find myself observing the people around me, even though I’m not sure where they come from, whether they’re Italians or tourists in the city of Venice, I try to soak up their characteristics and what it means to be who they are. In return, this causes me to think about what it means to be who I am- an American in Italy.

Our course has led us to investigate the concepts of identity and community, and I’ve extended them from our class discussions about the Jewish community to what I’m experiencing personally as an American student who is studying abroad in Italy. We’ve been questioning what it means to be Jewish in Venice and how Jews think of themselves here, whether it be as Venetians or as Jews, a concept which can relate to community.

I wanted to take these concepts of identity and community and think about them on my own personal level. I began by considering what’s most obvious, in America I would identify myself with the state I live in, the place I grew up, the kind of ethnic traditions I’ve practiced and the lifestyle I currently lead. Here in Italy, I can identify on a much broader level of just being American or being someone who is not from Italy. But I knew that before I began studying abroad I had made a connection between being an Italian in American to actually visiting Italy, since it’s a part of my heritage it became a part of my identity and how I think of myself. However, when in Italy being an Italian here means something totally different than being an Italian in American. I wonder, upon returning to America if I’ll still identify as much with being an Italian after actually seeing the country of Italy, does this change my sense of identity and what it once meant for me to be Italian (in America)? Will it strengthen or weaken my sense of identity? I know that the answer comes from the community and the atmosphere in which I’ve previously been exposed to in America, as opposed to this new environment of actual Italians. The sense of community has begun to change my sense of identity just as my identity will change based on the community I find myself in.

Sometimes when I pass by other people who are speaking another language, I listen to how their words and phrases, body movements and facial expressions communicate their message and then I wonder how my emotions, tone and expressions communicate my message. How does the English language sound to the foreign ear? And if they were able to observe the delivery of my phrases, would they still be able to communicate with me regardless of where they’re from and the language they speak? They say Italian is a language you can speak with your hands, and as someone who has studied communication along with performing arts, I feel as though our bodies can communicate for us. The other day, I had been walking along a street, or strada, and I heard a mother and daughter arguing behind me. Their tone was loud and the daughter started to get louder and louder as she got closer to me. She was storming off, scurrying in a frenzy and I could hear her tone as I tried to identify a word or two she was saying in Italian. She was not happy, they seemed to be arguing about something, and as she passed me by, I noticed a tear falling onto her cheek. Even though, I was unable to understand the language, I was able to understand their conversation and the way in which they were communicating. While there may be a language barrier, I’m coming to believe communication is universal. A laugh is a laugh, a cry is a cry, and a smile is a smile- no matter where you go, no matter where you’re from and no matter who you are. As people, we’re all the same, even though we may feel so very different.

As I continue to explore the rest of what Italy has to offer us, I continue to keep my eyes open to the conversations that surround me, the people who are fleeing and the feelings that I try to express to those who I communicate with, but as I do, I wonder if someone else is trying to figure out who I am and what I have to say, as I do with them.

Ciao for now!

Day 5 – Venice/Padova

Today we visited Padova (pronounced pa-jewa), which was yet another new experience and unique town in contrast to Venice and Rome.  It is a bit less of a tourist destination, so it gave me more of a sense of what life is like in the average town in Italy.  Although I remember a time when blue laws were still recognized in the U.S. (when stores were closed on Sundays), that was long forgotten until visiting Padova, when we had to find alternate activities for the afternoon rather than shopping during our free time.  Around 4 p.m. the city began to come alive – most stores opened and there was a small festival taking place in and around the town square which included music, a pantomime, juggler, artists, and other various entertainment.  I am under the impression that this is a typical Sunday in Paova, although I am not certain, and it was very nice to experience.

The educational component of the trip to Padua included a trip to St. Anthony’s cathedral, which although is not exactly a tourist destination, it is where many christians go to pray for the sick and deceased.  Although St. Anthony’s featured pre-renaissance artwork and had a slightly different architecture than some of its Roman counterparts, what was most outstanding to the entire study abroad group (and myself) was a board where those who came to pray attached pictures of those who they seeked blessing for.  Regardless of your religious convictions, it was quite emotional to see photos of hundreds who were being prayed for – each with a unique need for blessing.  It was quite bothersome to look at the pictures and wonder what motivated someone to make the pilgrimage to St. Anthony’s to seek help.  Further, I could not help but wonder the frequency of which the pictures were removed to make room for more.

The day provided alot of time for reflection, and after visiting St. Anthony’s, I began to once again recognize the value of my study abroad experience.  Visiting various religious sites during the program, one cannot help but get caught up in the lavish designs and artwork, and although I had learned otherwise in my Western Civilization course, observing all of the sites of the Catholic church left me with the impression that the extravogance was due simply to the Italians’  strong faith.  Although faith and beliefs may had contributed to the lavish architecture, I began to recall that there was a time when The Vatican was also the primary government of Rome, and at times most of Italy.  It occurred to me that the extravogance was as much a sign of power as it was to honor God.  Also, as in Venice, in contrast we toured (what remained of) the Padova Jewish Gettho, and it was once again disturbing to see the persecution and intolerance of people of different religious conviction – demonstrated by the need to almost camoflauge their synogauge and community.

Upon returning to Venice, in the evening we once again visited St. Mark’s square.  It is very difficult to describe being there, and it is something that I strongly urge others to experience.  Being at St. Mark’s at night, I was able envision myself in the 1700′s, and it felt surreal.  At four different locations, there were bands playing violin and piano, and it looked and sounded just like something you would see in the movies.  St. Mark’s, and Venice as a whole, is truly a unique place, and it is remarkable that it has remained greatly unchanged for hundreds of years!  I hope that Venice is always able to maintain its heritage.

Day 4 – Venice

We began our fourth day of the program by visiting St. Mark’s basilica.  St. Mark’s is probably best described as the Venetian equivalent of the Vatican, although it is not nearly as large.  In addition, it has Byzantium features in its architecture, so although it is quite lavish it is somewhat unique when compared to the St. Peter’s and other christian cathedrals.  After this brief visit, we then toured Doge’s Palace.  I must admit that I did not have any prior knowledge or expectations of Doge’s, but was extremely impressed by it.  By visiting Doge’s, it became apparent to me how our study abroad experience is beginning to come together.  Doge’s was the primary location of government and law making in Venice.  It was also the place where Venetians could file grievances against others, and it would appear primarily Jews from the Ghetto, amongst others would be tried and possibly imprisoned on site.  The overall architecture of Doge’s was meant to make an impression on all who visited there, and it still had that feel for me today.  As you made your journey to the courtroom or office you were scheduled to visit, you would pass through many chambers which, through various decor and artwork, gave you a sense of Venice’s power.  If you were tried and convicted, your attention shifted from the lavish building to the cold prison which awaited you.  It was quite an amazing place to visit and experience.

After touring Doge’s, professors Clasby and Mares provided us with a picnic lunch, which we enjoyed in the Ghetto.  At this point, it should be noted that, at least in Venice, the Ghetto refers more to an ethnic location, synonymous with segregation, rather than a type of slum that Americans generally think of.  We then discussed two other readings which were previously assigned, and the true value of a study abroad program became apparent.  Many times we have learned about a historical place or event by reading about it in a textbook.  During our picnic, I found it amazing that we were eating at the historic location which we had just read about the night before!  This was one of many examples where we “learned live” – with one of our professors bringing real context to what others can only imagine by reading, we get to experience it first hand.  I often read material and am concerned that I will not remember it in the near future; when learning in a study abroad program, I am confident that these will be experiences which I will never forget.