Strudel.

It really is only Christmas here. Not the holidays. There is really no getting around the fact that Italy is a pretty Catholic country. However, that being said, it is beautiful here right now. Christmas lights in the shapes of snowflakes, stars and curtains hover above the streets and christmas markets filled with traditional food, like roasted chestnuts, as well as crafts from all over Europe fill many of the piazzas. Today was a national holiday in honor of the immaculate conception, and tomorrow is the christmas party at Smith. This weekend Smith treated us to a show that was half a ballet to the music of Carmen and half opera, and my host mom has brought home a treat from the markets almost every night. Tonight it was apple strudel, warmed up with fresh cream on top. It made me nostalgic for the gatherings of my family and friends and the classic strudel stretching that usually occurs with them around christmas.

On another note, I went to Campo Rom last night, which always leaves me with a lot to think about. Last night, instead of venturing through the camps with Andrea I went off with another doctor, Paolo, and a few other volunteers. I was the only female in the group of five and I felt very aware of my gender throughout the night. The Rom have a more patriarchal culture then what I am used to, not that the US is not patriarchal, but within the camp I am often approached by then men in a way very different then they approach the other male volunteers However that is not the only reason gender was so prominent last night. I had already begun to think of the role of gender amongst the Rom when last week we visited three women whom all claimed to be "incinta" (pregnant) when only one really was, because of the status that pregnancy and maternity bring. In addition I noticed that even when the health issues are affecting the women most of the communicating is done through the men because the women have had no education. I now also want to learn more about how prominent violence against women is in the Rom community because one woman, who we diagnosed with scabies, told us that the reason she smokes is because her husband drinks too much and she is always nervous because of this.

In addition to my observations of gender roles I was asked by a group of Rom about the United States. They told me they wanted to go there to find work and live because there were no poor people there like them, and they would be able to find jobs easily. I corrected them and informed them that poverty is also very prevalent in the United States and that we have a very high un-employment rate, however I was amazed that they had such an optimistic and incorrect impression of the US. This was also asked to me by the only family I have seen that generate electricity just to have a television, thus I think this may have something to do with their ideas. What was interesting on top of the Rom's impression was the fact that one of the other older male volunteers interjected into the conversation that the Rom also wouldn't want to live in the US because we don't have a health care system like Italy. This is true, and Italy has a great health care system, yet I realized that although there does need to be a lost of reform within our country one of the reasons we have so many problems is because the US is huge and full of so many different kinds of people with different ideas. Therefore no solution is every found without a counter argument and there are many different lifestyles and cultures that need to be considered in every decision. This is no excuse for some of our policies, but I have noticed that American seems to have a fire in them that I haven't seen in Italy as much because we have had more to fight for and against.

Cimitero Degli Inglese

After reading the article on the Cimitero degli Inglese that I posted in the Rom entry on the 30th, I was inspired to journey up my street and find it. The cemetery is also known as the Island of the Dead, because it is a raised hill in the middle of a busy roundabout. However when I got there and met my friend Christine the cemetery was closed, disappointed we decided to walk around it and come back another time. However, as we turned to leave Julia, the nun from the article, walked out of her building and opened the large iron gates, letting us in. She was excited about our interest in the cemetery and not only let us in when it was closed, but gave us a tour complete with stories of the people who were buried there and the people who work there.

This is the main path leading up and around the cemetery

The tomb of Elizabeth Barrett Browning, in the middle is a broken slave shackle symbolic of her works against slavery

When Christine and I mentioned our work with the Rom and the article we had read she brought us into her library where we saw beautiful books produced by the Rom. One book was a vocabulary book, with terms helpful for doctors and health, that used pictures, Romanian, Italian, and Romany, the Rom's language. However the discussion also lead to the challenges facing the Rom and she told us that because of the animosity towards the Rom when the article we read was published the government stopped her from being able to give the Rom work. It was incredibly upsetting that this article that could have brought positive attention to the Rom and their stories resulted in negative consequences.

MEDU

Monday was my first trip to Campo Rom with MEDU. It was the experience I had hoped for. To start Christime and I met the doctor, who coordinates the Monday night visits, named Andrea at the bar where we went last week for the information session. From here he grabbed two bags of medical supplies from the headquarters in the basement and we met two more volunteers before the five of us piled into Andrea's car and began our journey to Campo Rom. The ride was the beginning of the experience. It was late, raining and I was sitting in a car listening to Italians discuss life and politics in Italian. When we arrived at Campo Rom we parked across the street in a gas station and from there entered the camp through what seemed to be an old doorway.

The camp is an old broken down building on one side, and a muddy field with huts on the other. When we crossed through the doorway and into the camp everything was quieter. There was a wall blocking the camp from the busy street on the other-side and the noises I was now cognizant of were those of the rats scurrying across the ground in front of me and the crackle of a fire from the building ahead. As we rounded the corner of one of the dismantled buildings we could see the huts to our right and a pile of discarded clothes, bags, and trash taller then me and covering the ground to our left. As we maneuvered our way around the puddles with only the light of two small flashlights for the five us I could make out hundreds of rats crawling through the trash, and a group of figures illuminated in the light of a garbage can bonfire ahead. However, before we reached the figures we stopped, and were beaconed into a room of the old building by a young man and his family.

The room was part of the crumbling building but the family that lived there had put up dry wall, painted and built a wood-stove for heat. There was no electricity or running water and the room was lit by a single candle. When we entered the room Andrea began his work. His first task to to do a check up on Francesco, a plump and happy five month old baby. According to a woman who I met that works with the Rom, Rom babies never cry, and Francesco's mother explained that she was worried he might be sick because he never cries but he had cried that evening for ten minutes. However as Andrea shined his flashlight on him and listened to his breath with a cold stethoscope Francesco didn't cry. In fact the whole time we were there he didn't cry. As Christine and I gathered around him, when Christine held him, or when his mother left the room, Francesco remained content. Everyone we meant seemed content and happy despite their less then ideal surroundings. As Christine and I sat and talked with Francesco's mother and her mother other members of the Gypsy community wandered in and out of the room: Francesco's father, two neighbors, and the grandfather. Each person saluting Andrea and checking in with him about their current state of health. They all seemed to really trust and like Andrea.

However the Roms we visited also consistently asked Andrea for medicine even when it was unnecessary. Andrea explained this in the car that the Roms he visits often ask for medicine because in Romania, where a lot of these Roms have family (although Rom does not come from Romanian it is actually a constructions that Italians have created for something they dislike and is unfamiliar to them thus they need to catagorize it and name it) they are denied access to medicine and thus here they want it because it is a privilege they would like to have.

On Monday we were only able to visit the one room because the rain left the field to the other huts impassible. Thus my first experience was a limited, but powerful one.

Astrofisica

On another note I also attempted to take a biology class today at the University of Florence. However the Italian university system is quite different then the American one and much less organized. Thus the class although listed (and confirmed to exist by the registrar) was not actually taking place today. Therefore I decided to take Fondamentale in Astrofisica (yes fundamentals in astrophysics) with my friend Anna. It turned out to be better then I thought it would be. I loved being surrounded by Italians my age studying science, and I was able to follow along fairly well since radius, pie, and the speed of light are all represented by the same symbols in Italy as they are in America. The universality of science is something I have always liked and for a minute I forgot I was in an Italian classroom, which was nice. It made the world feel a lot smaller.

Rom

This weekend my stylistics professor assigned a really great article about the English Cemetery here in Florence (In Italian this article was really beautifully written and made some interesting comparisons between the Italy and the US with regard to human rights). However, this article is also really about the Rom population and the need for equal rights for everyone here in Italy. Which conveniently for me also ties in with my internship since I will be working with at the Rom camp. Since my professor was also aware of this she assigned me a separate presentation on the Rom population in Italy. Due to this I have been doing some research and have found a some really interesting articles.

A brief summary (however reading the articles will be more informative [click here: 1 2]): The Rom population is made up of mainly Romanians, but also other eastern europeans that have come to Italy and are now living in poverty (also Rom appears to be interchangeable with gypsy). Despite the Rom's deep history in Italy there have been recent movements to expel them and with these movements, as well as before, there has been a lot of violence and racism against Roms and immigrants in Italy.

Oltrarno

I never really know what is going on here. For some reason everything seems more surreal when it is said in Italian, and Tuesday I went to a meeting that greatly contributed to my confusion, but also cleared up a few questions. To start, the meeting occurred because I finally found out more about my internship. Christine and I will be working with the Medici per I Diritti Umani (Doctors for Human Rights). To find out more about the organization and our roles Christine and I were told by Monica to get on a bus, take it across the Arno and get off at the first stop. From here we were told to walk into the bar (although she forgot to mention it was down an alley and in a bad part of town) and ask the person behind the counter where to find the class for doctors. Thus after our adventure through the dark streets of oltrarno Christine and I found a group of people working to help provide health care to the population in Italy that is often ignored. It was a very needed escape from the often fake and overcrowded center of Florence into a more eclectic and real Italy. The group was passionate and well educated, there was even a 25 year old woman who had just passed her exam to be a doctor last Friday. Many of the people in the group were a type of Italian hippie and neither fashion nor art history were mentioned once. I was finally able to step away from the history and art that Florence is known for and into contemporary Florence. I finally saw that Florence is more then its past it is a progressive city and there are things happening here today that warrant as much attention as Italy's relics.

Which brings me to contemporary Italian health care. Italy has the second best healthcare system in the world according to WHO, however many Italians dislike their system and immigrants and homeless are often uninsured due to complicated legalities necessary to access the system. There seems to be limited middle ground, and most people are either frustrated with the system or think it's great. Either way it appears to function better then the system in the US because all citizens have access to the health care they need and no one is forced into bankruptcy because of health issues. This is where my internship comes in. In Italy you need a SSN to be able to receive health care and many immigrants and homeless can not obtain an SSN however there are other options availble to them, sort of. I don't understand the system that well yet but this is a short and slightly dry article explaining how the Italian health care system works. I haven't decided my position yet, but I hope my experience with Medici per i Diritti Umani will shed some light on the issues surrounding Italy's universal health care.

One Month Later

So it has officially been over a month since my arrival in Florence. I am feeling a little more settled now that classes have officially started and the homework is beginning to pile up. The language is also becoming more familiar, although not necessarily easier. Yet I am finding that there are certain phrases in Italian that better express what I am feeling rather then their english equivalent. In a way it is kind of like taking on a second identity because the things I can say are limited, and thus different then what I would say in English, and I can only speak Italian with certain people in my life. For that matter I can also now only speak english with certain people in my life, it is just a larger group. I have also realized that to really feel like I am in Italy I must be speaking in Italian, otherwise the reality of being here is farther away.

In other news this weekend was a fabulous weekend exploring outside of Florence. I went to Pisa, Lucca, and Perugia for a chocolate festival! Pisa was full of tourists, but the leaning tower was fun to see and the accompanying church was beautiful inside. The best part of Pisa was the weird obsession everyone who visits has to take a perspective picture of themselves so they look like they are "holding up" the tower. Thus the fields in front of the tower are speckled with tourists in goofy poses trying to save the tower from it's doom.

Lucca was prettier and less touristy. It is a small city that is still enclosed by its medieval walls that have been turned into a beautiful path circling the city where people walk run and ride bikes. My three friends and I enjoyed a picnic lunch on one of the grassy walls, and after rented bikes for an hour and cruised around them. It was amazing. As we rode we could see the city of Lucca clearly on one side and the mountains on the other. It was a beautiful day and biking was incredibly de-stressing.

As for the chocolate festival, what can I say I was surrounded by blocks and blocks of specialty chocolate. It was pretty amazing, and obviously delicious. Plus I discovered the beauty and steepness of Perugia when my roomate Lenora and I decided to save 2 Euros and walk to the center of town for the festival rather then bus. When we asked locals where the center is they would chuckle and say "up". However because of its height the view from the center was amazing, and the city in general was full of beautiful and old architecture.

Tuscany

Today was an adventure. I did some research on riding in tuscany and I found a little farm named la Fattoria il Poeta located about 30 miles from Florence. So this morning I hopped on a train and arrived in a little town at the bottom of a very large hill in hopes of finding "la fattoria," and Antonetta, a woman I had talked with about going horseback riding. After wandering the dangerously small streets I was found by a kind man in a truck who had spied me from the farm and descended the hill to help me find my way up.

Once I arrived I was greeted by Antonetta, her daughter, Monica and many of their animals.

After a cold glass of water I ascended the hill farther with Antonetta to meet Linda, the lovely brown horse pictured above. Anotonetta explained that Linda is a Bardigianos, a breed of horse that originated in Italy to navigate the steep and rocky hills. I couldn't believe that I was actually in Tuscany with two women who only spoke Italian and a horse whose ancestors were created for the sole purpose of exploring this countryside. Thus we saddled up and began our climb into the bountiful tuscan countryside.

We rode for over two hours without seeing anyone else except one lone farmer loading his truck. However at the top of these steep hills we encountered many little areas housing cows, sheep, olive trees, fig trees and vineyards. The hills were quiet and peaceful yet there were obvious signs of the farmers that lived and worked on them. It was an example of how different farming can be from the factory farms located in the United States. I don't know if all of Italy is free of factory farming, but I know that the farms I saw on this trip were examples of how farmers can have symbiotic relationships with their surroundings.

Cinque Terre

Last weekend three other girls and I went hiking and swimming in Cinque Terre. It was beautiful. I don't really know what else to say. It is kind of surreal that it ever happened. The water was warm the hikes were through vineyards and the towns were brilliantly colored. At night we ate delicious seafood and danced in the main square at a wine tasting festival. The best part: swimming in the ocean at Vernazza (cave pictured below) funniest: scaling a cliff to a nude beach, only frequented by old men.

Not So Big

For la cena stasera (dinner tonight) we had homemade pesto and tomato sauce on pasta or rice, fresh mozzarella and tomatoes, greens, salad, cucumber, chicken and bread. For dessert fresh peaches in orange juice. The first picture is my amazing Signoria Maria Theresa. The second is my laundry hanging to dry. Here almost everyone hangs their laundry. Washing machines are smaller, and in general people are less wasteful. Cars are smaller, there are a lot of scooters and even some of the buses are electric. It is definitely different from the cities I know in the United states and everything feels just a little safer and a little less daunting because in the end its not so big.

Relics

Today I partook in the Italian ritual of "Passeggiare." Passeggiare happens during the time of day right before sunset, and before dinner, when many Italians take walks. So this evening I put on my running shoes and ran along the Arno alongside many other Italians, of all ages, walking, strolling, running, or biking. (The picture below is from my terrace after I returned from my run and was stretching watching the sunset before dinner.) What I discovered from my run were two things: 1. that even Italians' exercise is at a more leisurely pace then what I seem to find in the US 2. That people fare le passeggiate because it makes them more hungry and thus able to consume all three "piatti" that are served during "la cena" (dinner).

Apart from exercising Italian style today I also enjoyed a beautiful walking art history class to the church of San Miniato. The church is one of the highest points in the city and it is a beautiful walk to find it. The church itself is made of multi-colored marble and inside there are frescos, paintings, and sculptures. The picture below is a view from the front of the church looking down over Firenze. What struck me the most about this incredible church aside from its breathtaking beauty was how long it had been standing in the same spot overlooking the city of Firenze. There was something really powerful about knowing how many people had come to this church before me for some reason. As well as to know that this church with all of it's brilliance stood watching over Firenze. There is something special about the fact that this city is so old and in many ways has changed very little. I realized that the whole city feels special for this reason. In some ways I feel I can never be lonely here because there are too many relics of the past to ever be truely alone.

I like living in a city where I know what time it is based on the sound of bells.

Privacy

First I apologize for the name of this blog. I haven't blogged before and it was a spur of the moment kind of thing. I have to admit I have never read E.M. Forester's book, but I hope to now that I am in Firenze where I have a room with a view! My host mother is the classic Italian Signora, with a small, slightly dated apartment and a great skill for cooking. From my room I can see il duomo and Fiesole, and from my rooftop terrace I can see all of Florence. I posted a picture of the Ponte Vecchio, me on my hike up to Piazzale Michelangelo (across the street from my house), as well as the view from my room.

I can't really believe that I have actually begun my junior year abroad. Each day has seemed like a week in a fury of walking tours of the city and the constant haze between english and italian. Neither of which I can speak correctly at the moment. However I am enjoying the constant babble between the two languages in my head. It is the main reason I chose to come to Firenze. To fully immerse myself in another culture. Learn the language, and attempt to assimilate. So far I have already come to appriciate many of the differences between Italian and American culture. Like the fact that Italians have imported our word for privacy, or in others words privacy does not exist here. Thoughts, health issues, money worries, and more are all things to share with everyone because by doing so Italians have created for themselves a society that loves to help each other. If you share, the support you need will be given to you. However sharing everything means a lot of talking, but what better way to learn a language then by listening!