There are two things that Italians love to do: talk and eat. Since I already addressed the eating, this time I’ll get to the talking. I really think that an Italian could talk all day to the wall, and not realize the wall wasn’t answering back. Although when they find someone to answer back, it simply doubles the conversation time.
Case in point: today was probably our last day at the beach with sunshine, as rain is forecast for this weekend. Paolo had a friend visiting for the day, so they were talking. I wasn’t really paying attention, because to me, it was naptime. The conversation got heated, which when they’re speaking Italian, sounds to me like a bad breakup, but to them is just friendly conversation. Anyways, I fell asleep and awoke literally two hours later to find myself in the exact same place (thank goodness the sun wasn’t out, I would be a lobster), covered in my drool ( I can’t help it, I drool when I nap), and with them still having the exact same conversation. Ridiculous! As soon as I came to, and realized they were still talking about the European Union, I just got up and went home. They had actually forgotten I was still even there; I could’ve drowned. I just don’t understand how people can possibly talk for so long; obviously they didn’t agree with each other, talking about it doesn’t change that. It’s like when Republicans and Democrats argue about something; nothing is going to change! I’m all for good conversation, after all the Powers family thrives on good conversation, but that was ridiculous. There should be a point when you realize it’s a futile effort. But this is the Italian way. That’s why their meals take so long; it’s not just because there’s a lot of food, it’s because people won’t shut up to eat the food. If anyone brings up politics, the European Union, etc., it’s over. So my advice to you if you want to visit, and eat your dinner while it’s still hot, is to not bring up politics. Just don’t.
In further ridiculousness, I really have to tell about my first Italian Ebay experience. We wanted to buy a trio travel system (stroller, bassinet, and carseat), but here they are veryyyy expensive. There’s a reason Italy’s birth rate is low; no one can afford to buy a stroller (or any other baby items for that matter). When I say expensive, I mean the low end ones start around 300 euros ( approx $400). However, we also wanted a decent one. So we looked on Ebay, found a Chicco travel system that was barely used, and got a great deal on it. It’s obvious that people here are just starting to use Ebay; the sellers and buyers both seem naive. I have been using it since I was 14, and have never had problems. But I realized immediately that this time was going to be strange.
First, the guy emailed me and said he couldn’t possibly send it to the US (as he had shipping at 25 euros), and how should he go about trying to this, followed by another email two minutes later saying that he realized I had an Italian shipping address. Note that no one ever sends emails on ebay. Ebay has a cleverly designed messaging program, to prevent personal emails from being used, but somehow this guy got my address. Then last night when I checked my email, the real kicker came. He told me that he sent the package, but that it had cost him 56 euros to send instead of the 25 that I had already paid, and could we please send extra to make up the difference? WHAT? First of all, how can I magically send this money? The paypal system is perfect for ebay, but it only works when you purchase something; our payment had already been sent and received. You can make personal transfers, but since I have an a US bank account, my bank charges high fees and exchange rates for this, so rather than the extra 30, I would pay around 70. All of that aside, Ebay is a professional selling platform; it’s the seller’s responsibility to know how much they need to list things for to make a profit. If you guess on the shipping cost of something as big as a stroller, you can really get into trouble. Especially when you list overnight shipping as your shipping method on the item listing. He’s lucky that we were only two hours away; if he’d had to ship it to Sicily, it probably would’ve cost him around 200 euros just to ship.
Anyways, so now we’re in this completely awkward situation of dealing with cultural differences. If I was Italian, I would’ve just paid, because I would feel bad for the guy, and try to be neighborly. But I’m American, and have a business mind. In my opinion, it was stupid of him to promise low cost shipping without even checking. Furthermore, it would cost us less to drive there and pick it up than for him to ship it at 56 euros. At 25 for shipping, it was a good deal; at 56, it wasn’t really. But he didn’t even ask; he just sent it, and paid extra to have expedited (which we didn’t ask for). He also threw in a Chicco bathtub “for free”, which had to be sent in a separate box, so that didn’t help the shipping cost. But again, it wasn’t something we asked for, just something he threw in. So basically, on the principle of the matter, I wasn’t paying this extra money. He clearly had no idea what he was doing, and the only way to learn a lesson sometimes is to make a mistake. So Paolo wrote in a very nice way, that no, we wouldn’t pay, and listed the reasons, as well as Ebay’s policy on selling (you can’t increase payment prices after price is agreed upon). In the end, the guy was really understanding and even thanked me for giving him tips, so all’s well that ends well, but still. It was all very typically Italian, in that they seem to kind of consider everything negotiable, and treat it in an old fashioned way. Like the rules are just kind of guidelines, and there’s probably a way around them, and we’re all just friends after all. Like I said, I’ve never had an Ebay seller contact me outside of Ebay before; I almost feel like I should take the guy out for a coffee now that we know each other so well.
I guess I shouldn’t expect much else from a place where many people still grow their own grapes to make homemade wine, or hand out their chicken’s eggs to coworkers. It’s a sense of community, and trust. People leave their stuff out on the beach while they go in for lunch, or even overnight, because, what could happen? It’s really nice in some ways; it’s charming, but I think it also keeps Italy somewhat behind in terms of growth. Internet commerce doesn’t do as well here because people are used to going to certain places to get what they need. Amazon and Ebay, two of my main shopping sources, are very behind here. People don’t use them that much, making prices higher, and making them disadvantageous to me. I always used Amazon because they have free shipping and almost always a better price than anywhere else. This is not true here because not enough people use it, so therefore I won’t use it. I don’t know if it’s possible for Italy to retain its charm and move forward in the world simultaneously; I really hope so. I enjoy the naivety and generally trusting nature of people here; it’s not something I’m used to. In the US, while not everyone may use Ebay, probably most people would think it’s funny for someone to ask for extra money after you already bought something from them. It’s like going to Walmart, buying a TV for $400, and then the company calling you the next day to tell you that they actually need an extra $100 because they put the wrong tag on it. Here, in this context, it didn’t seem so ridiculous, and you almost wanted to help the guy out because he obviously realized his mistake, and didn’t know what he was doing.
Anyways, I know that was too long, it seems the Italians are rubbing off on me. You’ll be lucky if you can get me to shut up when I get back to the US.
Ciao for now!
Kathleen
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Saturday, August 25, 2012
For the Love of Food
A friend here said to me a couple weeks ago, “Italians are always thinking about food. When they aren’t eating, they’re talking about food.”
This is maybe the truest statement I’ve ever heard. First of all, people here eat a lot. I don’t care what they say about Americans; they have no room to talk. They eat differently than we do, this is for sure. When my mom cooks dinner, everything is set out on the table, and that is what there is to eat. Here, there are often several courses, so you never know how much is coming. I’ve learned to not eat too much of anything, because you just never know. If you’re still hungry at the end (which is highly unlikely), you can just eat extra dessert, because you know that’s the end (although it will be followed by coffee and a digestif). While each course is definitely smaller than an American meal, if you add all of them up, I’m fairly certain it’s more here. Which is generally fine by me. I am by all means a lover of food, and the food here is exceptional.
What’s funny to me is how much they talk about food, even when they just finished eating. We finish dinner, and they start to talk about what to eat for lunch the next day. Or every time Paolo talks to his mom, she asks what we ate if she wasn’t there to eat with us. I tried to think if my mom has ever asked me that, but I’m pretty sure not. My mom probably doesn’t care what she had for dinner, much less what I had. Or if it’s my brother, she’s just glad he remembered to eat at all. But seriously, it’s amazing to me how much thought they put into what they’re going to eat for each meal. Part of me really likes it, because I enjoy planning, and so I like that aspect of it. But sometimes I just want to get a baguette and smother it in Nutella or make a sandwich, rather than thinking so much about what we can put together with what we have, or what we need to go buy, etc. Maybe this is the American in me, I'm not used to so much formality with each and every meal.
Obviously, whatever they’re doing is working, because the food here is completely delicious. I could eat pizza and gelato every day of my life and not get tired of it. Not to mention all the fresh fruits and vegetables, and pastas in every variety imaginable. So, Italy, keep doing what you’re doing when it comes to food. If speaking and thinking about food all the time is what it takes to make the magic happen, I won’t argue. Buon appetito!
Ciao for now,
Kathleen
This is maybe the truest statement I’ve ever heard. First of all, people here eat a lot. I don’t care what they say about Americans; they have no room to talk. They eat differently than we do, this is for sure. When my mom cooks dinner, everything is set out on the table, and that is what there is to eat. Here, there are often several courses, so you never know how much is coming. I’ve learned to not eat too much of anything, because you just never know. If you’re still hungry at the end (which is highly unlikely), you can just eat extra dessert, because you know that’s the end (although it will be followed by coffee and a digestif). While each course is definitely smaller than an American meal, if you add all of them up, I’m fairly certain it’s more here. Which is generally fine by me. I am by all means a lover of food, and the food here is exceptional.
What’s funny to me is how much they talk about food, even when they just finished eating. We finish dinner, and they start to talk about what to eat for lunch the next day. Or every time Paolo talks to his mom, she asks what we ate if she wasn’t there to eat with us. I tried to think if my mom has ever asked me that, but I’m pretty sure not. My mom probably doesn’t care what she had for dinner, much less what I had. Or if it’s my brother, she’s just glad he remembered to eat at all. But seriously, it’s amazing to me how much thought they put into what they’re going to eat for each meal. Part of me really likes it, because I enjoy planning, and so I like that aspect of it. But sometimes I just want to get a baguette and smother it in Nutella or make a sandwich, rather than thinking so much about what we can put together with what we have, or what we need to go buy, etc. Maybe this is the American in me, I'm not used to so much formality with each and every meal.
Obviously, whatever they’re doing is working, because the food here is completely delicious. I could eat pizza and gelato every day of my life and not get tired of it. Not to mention all the fresh fruits and vegetables, and pastas in every variety imaginable. So, Italy, keep doing what you’re doing when it comes to food. If speaking and thinking about food all the time is what it takes to make the magic happen, I won’t argue. Buon appetito!
Ciao for now,
Kathleen
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Ode to Air Conditioning
One thing that has fascinated me since I arrived here a month ago is the European attitude towards air conditioning. I guess I have never experienced Europe in the deep summer before, so I didn’t realize how scarce air conditioning was. It never occurred to me that not everyone in first world countries had it, I just assumed it.
I feel like I’m at a disadvantage here for two reasons: First, in America, everyone has air conditioning, and uses it liberally. Cold classrooms, restaurants, and stores have often been the bane of my existence. Not to mention that my dad is basically a polar bear and keeps our house so cold that you could probably get frostbite in the summer. So basically, air conditioning is often overused, and this is what I’m used to. Also, I’m six months pregnant and it’s August, which makes me greatly appreciate air conditioning.
HOWEVER. I am the only one on this continent that shares this sentiment. Many apartments here don’t even have air conditioning, which I didn’t know. My apartment in Pavia is unfortunately included in this.. I spent the first two weeks here sitting in front of a fan. The problem is, when you go outside (walking everywhere, of course), it’s really hot. Then you go home, and it’s really hot. So it’s easier to never even leave the house, because at least there is the fan there. I can’t wait for the weather to get cooler, so I can go out and do things, without almost passing out from heatstroke.
The second super weird thing about air conditioning here is that those who have it don’t use it very often. I’m at the beach now, at Paolo’s parent’s beach house, which is air conditioned ( thank God!). I was so relieved when we got here! HOWEVER. The air conditioning is only to be used when everyone agrees that it’s too unbearably hot, and usually at night. It is NOT to be used when anyone is even slightly wet, because don’t you know, wet hair + air conditioning = certain death by cold. This is difficult, since we’re at the beach, someone is almost always wet.
Several days ago, we had friends visiting, and everyone went out to the beach for a few hours, then came back to eat pizzas. I came back early to help get the table ready for everyone and such, and turned on the air conditioning, as there were going to be 9 people in a small living room eating. Sidenote: everyone had been at the beach for a few hours, obviously we weren’t smelling great. Naturally, to me, this meant air conditioning time, because a lot of people + small space = lots of stink and heat. Of course, as soon as everyone walked in the door, the first thing they all said was “Che freddo!!” (how cold!) So I was once again outvoted, and the air conditioning was turned off. I just don’t understand! It was so hot, so stinky, how can Europeans stand that? I have always been the one that was cold before, but here I’m always the one wanting more air conditioning. Needless to say, I’m ready for fall. You can always put more clothes on, but you can only take so much off and it still be socially acceptable.
Ciao for now!
Kathleen
I feel like I’m at a disadvantage here for two reasons: First, in America, everyone has air conditioning, and uses it liberally. Cold classrooms, restaurants, and stores have often been the bane of my existence. Not to mention that my dad is basically a polar bear and keeps our house so cold that you could probably get frostbite in the summer. So basically, air conditioning is often overused, and this is what I’m used to. Also, I’m six months pregnant and it’s August, which makes me greatly appreciate air conditioning.
HOWEVER. I am the only one on this continent that shares this sentiment. Many apartments here don’t even have air conditioning, which I didn’t know. My apartment in Pavia is unfortunately included in this.. I spent the first two weeks here sitting in front of a fan. The problem is, when you go outside (walking everywhere, of course), it’s really hot. Then you go home, and it’s really hot. So it’s easier to never even leave the house, because at least there is the fan there. I can’t wait for the weather to get cooler, so I can go out and do things, without almost passing out from heatstroke.
The second super weird thing about air conditioning here is that those who have it don’t use it very often. I’m at the beach now, at Paolo’s parent’s beach house, which is air conditioned ( thank God!). I was so relieved when we got here! HOWEVER. The air conditioning is only to be used when everyone agrees that it’s too unbearably hot, and usually at night. It is NOT to be used when anyone is even slightly wet, because don’t you know, wet hair + air conditioning = certain death by cold. This is difficult, since we’re at the beach, someone is almost always wet.
Several days ago, we had friends visiting, and everyone went out to the beach for a few hours, then came back to eat pizzas. I came back early to help get the table ready for everyone and such, and turned on the air conditioning, as there were going to be 9 people in a small living room eating. Sidenote: everyone had been at the beach for a few hours, obviously we weren’t smelling great. Naturally, to me, this meant air conditioning time, because a lot of people + small space = lots of stink and heat. Of course, as soon as everyone walked in the door, the first thing they all said was “Che freddo!!” (how cold!) So I was once again outvoted, and the air conditioning was turned off. I just don’t understand! It was so hot, so stinky, how can Europeans stand that? I have always been the one that was cold before, but here I’m always the one wanting more air conditioning. Needless to say, I’m ready for fall. You can always put more clothes on, but you can only take so much off and it still be socially acceptable.
Ciao for now!
Kathleen
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Welcome to Adulthood
I recently realized that it was time in my life for me to start a new blog. And so, without further ado, here is my story: I am a recent college graduate, living in Italy, and trying to discover how to appreciate, and sometimes just cope with the differences in American and Italian culture.
I had previously planned to move to Italy after graduation, in order to be closer to my boyfriend, whom I met while studying abroad, and to teach English until I could speak enough Italian to get a job in the business field. As seems to happen so often, my plans were thwarted, and instead I moved here for the second half of my pregnancy. So basically, I’m taking a year off of working. I will live here until January (baby comes December 1), then I will go back to Alabama for about 6 months to stay with my family while Paolo goes to study in San Francisco. After that, it’s anyone’s guess. My goal is to spend the next year figuring out what I want to do, as the closer and closer I got to graduation, the more I struggled with career goals. There are so many opportunities for entrepreneurship, it’s just knowing when and where to start.
So, that is my basic story, and I thought that the blog would be a great way to chronicle my experiences. I think to some people it sounds super glamorous to come to live in Italy, to have an Italian baby, blah, blah, blah, but to me, the verdict is still out on that one. It’s a very stressful time of life to be moving to a new culture, learning a new language, etc. Not to mention dealing with all the bureaucracy of the health care system, and obtaining a permit to stay. Both of which were achieved, by the way. In fact, since I’m the mother of an Italian citizen, apparently I have a permit to stay for 5 years, and it can be renewed indefinitely. So I’m practically an Italian citizen, right? Haha, yeah right. Most of my initial experiences here were comparable with my experiences in France. As in, certain things are so difficult and ridiculous here that it only makes me mad. Maybe it’s like that wherever you go, I don’t know. For example, I went to the doctor here before I had all the health insurance stuff figured out. They said they would take care of it, they filled out some forms for me, did the exam and an ultrasound; everything seemed to easy. When I went to the hospital to have bloodwork done the next day, they told me the forms that had been filled out were only for illegal aliens, and since I was American, I was legal, and so they couldn’t see me. What?? Basically, if I had been illegal, it would have been easier for me to see the doctor than by being legal. (This is only true for pregnancy insurance, by the way) But I can really understand why the Italian economic system is in so much turmoil. They give health insurance to just anyone apparently! Not to mention that Berlusconi is continually being elected to public office, but that’s another issue.
I finally got all the paperwork straightened out, and have my insurance and permit to stay, so from that perspective, hopefully the worst is over. I am still struggling with certain things, and there seems to be a new thing pop up every day. Initially, it was the trash. We have three different trash cans; one for paper, one for recyclables, and one for everything else. However, paper towels and kleenex don’t count as paper. In what universe??? But these are the things I deal with. Now we’re at the beach for a month, which also sounds glamorous, but once again, has hidden difficulties. In America, I’ve always gone swimming during the hot part of the day. It makes sense; it’s refreshing. But here the pool is closed from 12-4, aka the hottest part of the day. I can’t really understand why. There’s no life guard on duty, I don’t see why it should ever be closed. According to Paolo, during the hot part of the day, you’re just supposed to eat and sleep, which is why all shops and apparently pools, are closed. Whatever.
As for learning Italian, I’m trying, but it’s difficult to me. I don’t really have the gift of being great at learning languages. Paolo’s parents can’t understand why I’m not completely fluent yet, but they seem to forget I’ve been here less than a month, and I did have a fairly busy life prior to coming here. I spent my first two weeks here mostly listening to people; you can learn a lot by listening. Only in the past week have I started trying to speak, but it’s slow going. Some days, it seems easier than others. Other days, like yesterday, I couldn’t understand anything, and couldn’t remember anything. I’m going to blame that on pregnancy, not stupidity. Maybe the nicest thing about pregnancy is that everything can be blamed on it, because there are infinite symptoms. Your gums are bleeding? Probably pregnancy. Mood swings? I can’t help it, I’m pregnant, you should be more considerate.
Anyways, sorry for the long entry, I probably should have started the blog sooner, because I apparently have a lot to say! If you made it this far, thank you for reading! Ciao for now, Kathleen
I had previously planned to move to Italy after graduation, in order to be closer to my boyfriend, whom I met while studying abroad, and to teach English until I could speak enough Italian to get a job in the business field. As seems to happen so often, my plans were thwarted, and instead I moved here for the second half of my pregnancy. So basically, I’m taking a year off of working. I will live here until January (baby comes December 1), then I will go back to Alabama for about 6 months to stay with my family while Paolo goes to study in San Francisco. After that, it’s anyone’s guess. My goal is to spend the next year figuring out what I want to do, as the closer and closer I got to graduation, the more I struggled with career goals. There are so many opportunities for entrepreneurship, it’s just knowing when and where to start.
So, that is my basic story, and I thought that the blog would be a great way to chronicle my experiences. I think to some people it sounds super glamorous to come to live in Italy, to have an Italian baby, blah, blah, blah, but to me, the verdict is still out on that one. It’s a very stressful time of life to be moving to a new culture, learning a new language, etc. Not to mention dealing with all the bureaucracy of the health care system, and obtaining a permit to stay. Both of which were achieved, by the way. In fact, since I’m the mother of an Italian citizen, apparently I have a permit to stay for 5 years, and it can be renewed indefinitely. So I’m practically an Italian citizen, right? Haha, yeah right. Most of my initial experiences here were comparable with my experiences in France. As in, certain things are so difficult and ridiculous here that it only makes me mad. Maybe it’s like that wherever you go, I don’t know. For example, I went to the doctor here before I had all the health insurance stuff figured out. They said they would take care of it, they filled out some forms for me, did the exam and an ultrasound; everything seemed to easy. When I went to the hospital to have bloodwork done the next day, they told me the forms that had been filled out were only for illegal aliens, and since I was American, I was legal, and so they couldn’t see me. What?? Basically, if I had been illegal, it would have been easier for me to see the doctor than by being legal. (This is only true for pregnancy insurance, by the way) But I can really understand why the Italian economic system is in so much turmoil. They give health insurance to just anyone apparently! Not to mention that Berlusconi is continually being elected to public office, but that’s another issue.
I finally got all the paperwork straightened out, and have my insurance and permit to stay, so from that perspective, hopefully the worst is over. I am still struggling with certain things, and there seems to be a new thing pop up every day. Initially, it was the trash. We have three different trash cans; one for paper, one for recyclables, and one for everything else. However, paper towels and kleenex don’t count as paper. In what universe??? But these are the things I deal with. Now we’re at the beach for a month, which also sounds glamorous, but once again, has hidden difficulties. In America, I’ve always gone swimming during the hot part of the day. It makes sense; it’s refreshing. But here the pool is closed from 12-4, aka the hottest part of the day. I can’t really understand why. There’s no life guard on duty, I don’t see why it should ever be closed. According to Paolo, during the hot part of the day, you’re just supposed to eat and sleep, which is why all shops and apparently pools, are closed. Whatever.
As for learning Italian, I’m trying, but it’s difficult to me. I don’t really have the gift of being great at learning languages. Paolo’s parents can’t understand why I’m not completely fluent yet, but they seem to forget I’ve been here less than a month, and I did have a fairly busy life prior to coming here. I spent my first two weeks here mostly listening to people; you can learn a lot by listening. Only in the past week have I started trying to speak, but it’s slow going. Some days, it seems easier than others. Other days, like yesterday, I couldn’t understand anything, and couldn’t remember anything. I’m going to blame that on pregnancy, not stupidity. Maybe the nicest thing about pregnancy is that everything can be blamed on it, because there are infinite symptoms. Your gums are bleeding? Probably pregnancy. Mood swings? I can’t help it, I’m pregnant, you should be more considerate.
Anyways, sorry for the long entry, I probably should have started the blog sooner, because I apparently have a lot to say! If you made it this far, thank you for reading! Ciao for now, Kathleen
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