Study Abroad In Italy

One of the prerequisites for my International Studies degree at Texas A&M was to participate in a Study Abroad program, and then write a report about it. I went to Italy for six wonderful months, from January to June 1997, and wrote the following report in 1998. Keep in mind this was written to get a degree, so its tone can be a little serious. But don’t worry, there is still some Cellucci-fied humor in there to keep you reading.

All photos are shown in their original low res glory.

Prior Experience/Expectations

I, like most people, like to think of myself as a ‘worldly’ person. It goes against human instinct to admit one’s own naivete. At the time before my study abroad experience, I was a poster child for this phenomenon. I had always considered myself someone with a greater sense of scale – who knew that the world was bigger than the “bubble” of current surroundings and responsibilities that everyone puts themselves in. When we are living and working in a particular place, we can get so caught up in our daily responsibilities that we forget there is a great big world out there and people with other ways of doing things. I always knew that, but I didn’t have any tangible sense of this concept because I had never been abroad. I had never experienced life in another culture, and by doing so I was to find out what a true sense of scale really is.

Expectations are something everyone brings to the table when they embark on a journey into the unknown. My expectations were a little bit different than others may have had. I spoke some Italian, so I didn’t worry about the basic tasks of ordering a meal, finding a bathroom, and telling my left from my right in a foreign tongue. I knew some basics about Italian culture because my father and grandparents are from Italy, so I knew some things to expect culturally.

What were my expectations then? While it’s cliché, I truly expected the unexpected, which was the right thing to expect, because on many occasions that’s exactly what I got…

Il Primo Giorno – The First Day

How can they be sleeping?

“How can they be sleeping at a time like this?” I thought to myself as the bus rolled on. Almost every one of my fellow study abroad students were dead asleep on the bus from Rome to Castiglion Fiorentino after the long plane ride to Italy. Sleep was the last thing I wanted. My mind whirred with the high-pitched buzz of new surroundings. I was in Italy! After years of hearing stories from my family and friends, I was finally in Italy! Who could sleep at a time like this?

As the bus drove on, I marveled at every billboard selling products I’ve never heard of before. I mentally calculated dollar to lira exchange rates. I watched in wonder at the little Fiats driving around – a welcome change from the pick-up trucks of Texas. I was especially glad that I had slept on the flight over instead of indulging in KLM Airlines’ free cocktails like some of my classmates! Countless emotions rolled me up into a ball of energy, ready to be unleashed on the hapless Mediterranean peninsula! Who could sleep at a time like this?

We pulled into Castiglion Fiorentino three hours after arriving in Rome. Castiglion Fiorentino is the town that would be my home for the next four months. It is the perfect postcard of a Tuscan hill town; a small, rustic creation of brown stone buildings and steeply sloping roads. Surrounding the town are rolling, green hills and it is almost impossible to find a bad view.

After a long walk from the bus stop, we reached the Santa Chiara study center. Santa Chiara is a former convent that was converted into the home of Texas A&M’s study abroad program. On the outside, the nondescript building blends into the adjacent buildings, in the classic Italian “row home” style. As I was to find out on many occasions throughout my travels in Italy, the plain exterior gave little indication to the treasures held inside. The three-story building contains dorm-style rooms, classrooms, a kitchen, and recreation areas. Paintings, architectural drawings, and sculpture adorn every hallway.

I got my room key and carried my bags upstairs to Room 7. The room was hotel-style fare, with three beds, a small bathroom, and wardrobes. My two roommates and I unpacked our bags and went downstairs to the dining room for our first meal in Italy.

And what a meal it was! Bread, pasta, salad, wine – and all before the main course! The good life was ours, laid out upon a table for us to savor. Nothing lifts the spirit like a plentiful and well-cooked meal, and we ate with gusto. The meals were even served to us! Workers in the kitchen brought out course after course of food. I hadn’t expected such world-class treatment; it seemed like this was more a vacation resort than a place of study!

With full bellies and tired eyes, many students trudged like zombies back to their rooms to catch up on some sleep. My mind was still buzzing, and I longed to explore my new home. Thankfully, a good excuse to get out came up; a welcoming party for the Americans was being held at a place called “The People’s Bar.” I gathered up the few students who weren’t already dead to the world, got directions, and headed out for the party.

The People’s Bar is a small restaurant/café just down the road from Santa Chiara. The main room was brightly lit and had tables and a rows of bottles behind a metal counter. We were led into the back room by the distinctive sound of bouncy music and too-loud singing that can only be karaoke. The back room was a small dining room with a table full of food and wine, a video screen with song lyrics flashing by, and a beautiful girl singing songs like “My Way” in Italian. We were greeted by the locals and made to feel incredibly comfortable. It was our first experience with real Italian people, and they made a strong first impression. We were awash in a sea of food, drink, and warm, friendly people.

After much prodding from the Italians, I got up and sang The Doors’ “Light My Fire,” which got other Americans to shed their inhibitions and join in the karaoke. More food and wine came. The back room was packing in tightly and people started dancing. It was incredible… a great meal at Santa Chiara, and now this terrific party!

How can they be sleeping?

As the night wore on, and I had delivered a rousing rendition of Bruce Springsteen’s “Born in the USA” (which the Italians really seemed to love), a group of old men came in, picked up every one of the American girls, and started dancing with them! We American guys were left dumbfounded, staring at each other and wondering how we had been out-smoothed by a bunch of old men!

The party ended soon after and we made our way back to Santa Chiara. All we could talk about was how great The People’s Bar was to give us that party and what a great time we had. If this was a glimpse of things to come, they’d have to drag me away kicking and screaming at the end of the trip.

I crawled into bed bleary-eyed and contented, and slept as I never have before.

La Programma – The Program

A soft mist hung over the valley. A cool, refreshing breeze blew. A steaming cup of hot chocolate warmed my hands. Everything was perfect for a relaxing morning in Italy… and I had to go to class.

Surprisingly, it was easier than one would think to go to class in these idyllic conditions. The study abroad program offered plenty of free time, and I knew I had most of the day to enjoy. Nevertheless, it was sometimes hard to drag myself to a class when the siren song of Italy beckoned.

Thankfully the classes were quite good. The program revolved around Paolo Barucchieri’s Arts and Culture class. With Paolo, we would travel around to different cities, learning about various artists and their work. My other classes were two economics classes taught by Dr. John Moroney and a sociology class with Dr. Katheryn Dietrich. All of the classes tied into each other and dealt with European issues and experiences. The teachers were incredibly friendly, and it was a unique experience to get to know teachers not only on the teacher-student level, but also as travel buddies.

As important as classes are to a college student, book knowledge takes a backseat to the real-life knowledge you get from living in a new culture. The most important thing to do for those who are studying abroad is to stress learning outside of the classroom, because that’s the stuff that will stay with you. While I can’t quite remember the GDP of Italy, I can remember all of the many Italian swear words that the old men taught me at the Bobo Bar, a coffee shop just up the hill from Santa Chiara. While the name of the architect who designed the Duomo of Siena escapes me, the names of some great Italian friends that I met will always be with me.

One unfortunate event that I witnessed on this study abroad program was a particular group of students who spent most of their time in the study center. Whether it was fear of exploring a new culture or an overemphasis on studying their books, these students would spend little time interacting with the people of Castiglion Fiorentino. It was as if they were creating their own little America right there in the study center, and they treated the program more as a vacation than an experience. This was truly a tragedy. Nothing can be more valuable and important than interacting with a culture in which you are a stranger. By sheltering yourself you learn nothing and reduce your chances of having a good time.

Chiese, Chiese, Chiese – Churches, Churches, Churches

Before going to Italy, there was an orientation meeting held by the Study Abroad office. At this meeting, there were students who had previously gone on the trip to Castiglion Fiorentino, and they told us about their experiences. One thing seemed to come up over and over again:

“Churches, churches, churches. You will go to so many churches, that they will all be a blur.”

It was in Saint Francis’ Basilica in Assisi (which has since been destroyed in an earthquake) that I realized this was no understatement. In just the last month we had been to countless churches, and Saint Francis’ was the largest one yet. This church had two levels – it was actually two churches in one!

As Paolo guided us through the basilica, describing the frescos of Giotto held within, I tried to think back to other churches I had seen and I could remember very few details. There are simply so many churches with so much great art that very few could be remembered with any level of detail.

Churches are where most of the art is kept in Italy. As the Renaissance was as much a religious movement as an artistic one, most paintings and sculptures of the time were religious in nature. So every week we would go to a new city with Paolo, and in every city we would hit a few churches.

Words cannot describe the beauty of the treasures that each church in Italy holds. Throughout the trip, we saw countless works of marble and paint that were completely amazing and larger than life. The sheer magnitude of Renaissance art is a truly fascinating thing.

But it’s not always fascinating. On that day in Assisi, I hit overload. When you are getting relentlessly inundated with something, it’s a natural defensive response to build up a shell around yourself. My shell was a wall of yawns and thoughts of a good meal and a nap. When you see too much of anything, even if it’s beautiful and interesting, the mind begins to numb. Mind numb was a companion of mine on several trips.

This is not meant to take anything away from Italian art. While sometimes there was a feeling of “oh great, another church,” each one is a testament to a time that can never be duplicated. Architectural and artistic works such as those just can’t be made anymore; which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, just a statement of truth. Art in the 20th century serves a different purpose than it did in the Renaissance. The tools are different as well – while they sculpted with marble, we sculpt with 1’s and 0’s. Neither is necessarily better, although there is no denying that Renaissance art is of a landmark quality and something that can never be duplicated.

Il Cibo – The Food

I always get asked one thing when someone finds out that I have gone to Italy:

“How was the food?”

Italy is of course renowned for its cuisine. While most cultures have foods that are not necessarily appealing to other cultures, it seems that everyone across the board likes Italian food.

After answering the cliché question in the affirmative, I always say the cliché quote from the person who’s been to Italy:

“Real Italian food is totally different from Italian food we get in America.”

Cliché as it may be, there is much truth to this statement. Americans weaned on The Olive Garden and Chef Boyardee are in for a shock to the system when they go to Italy. Pizza in Italy is not the greasy, powerful pie you get at Pizza Hut; it is a dryer, fresher creation. Bread in Italy is not the soft, bleached mush that is Wonder Bread; it is usually crusty and more flavorful. Pasta is not a meal; it is an appetizer.

There is an order that is generally followed in the serving of an Italian meal. It all starts out with a round of pasta. Next comes the main course, which is usually a meat dish served with bread and salad or other vegetables. Last is dessert, which is usually fresh fruit. Wine naturally accompanies each course. A meal is something that is not rushed through; a good dinner can last from one to three hours.

Wine is the glue that holds an Italian meal together. There is a quote: “una cena senza vino è come un giorno senza sole” – “A meal without wine is like a day without the sun.” Wine is one of the few products in Italy that is inexpensive; while a gallon of gas costs the equivalent of five dollars, a good bottle of Chianti only costs about four!

A lot of people have the notion that if they went to Italy their weight would balloon from overeating. In Italy you do eat well, but you eat healthy. This is not a country of Big Macs and chicken fried steak; it is one that generally eats fresh and light. I personally lost about 10 pounds in my six months in Italy, but I ate like a champ.

Italian food isn’t all nectar and ambrosia. Breakfast is an area that Italy falls short in by American standards. There are no big, hearty breakfasts to start off your day. The Italian breakfast generally consists of hard rolls and coffee. Not all dinners are fantastic either; just about every student in the study center balked the night that large anchovy fish, heads and all, were served as the main course.

In general, eating in Italy is a fantastic experience. I can’t help but think that the Italians have got the whole eating thing figured out a bit better than Americans. They eat healthier and enjoy it more, which makes perfect sense. After all, something as basic to survival as consumption should be enjoyed, right?

Amicizia – Friendship

It all started with the truly international language of basketball.

A few of us Americans decided to go down to the local basketball court and try to get into a game. We had seen locals playing there and figured it would be a good chance to see if we could dominate local basketball like the USA Dream Team dominates international basketball. Thankfully, we not only did our country proud, but met some great locals as well – guys that would become some of my best friends on the trip.

As the weeks went on, I was hanging out with this group of Italians more and more. Through them I met more people, and near the end of the semester I could go into the local pub (The Velvet Underground, a small American-style bar with live music) and count on running into several people I knew. Being ‘networked’ with the locals has its privileges, and thanks to my new friends I had the chance to do many things that other American students did not. For example, I got to:

• Play a concert in Castiglion Fiorentino’s town square with a local rock band.
• Drive to nearby towns in the middle of the night searching for open restaurants.
• Act as a Roman soldier during the Easter passion play.
• Eat fresh bread at a “forno” – a place where bread is made all night to be ready for the next day.
• Spend over two weeks living with an Italian family (other than my own).
• Spend evenings at a friend’s ranch and stables outside of town.
• Go to a wedding party.
• Meet some of the coolest, most laid-back people I’ve ever met.

Indeed, the friends that you make during a trip determine the quality of the time you have. I discovered that if you just reach out, people will let you into their lives, which is by far the most rewarding thing about traveling.

Stereotipi Culturali – Cultural Stereotypes

Cultural stereotypes are as old as cultures themselves. Much of the information we have about other cultures seems to be misinformation. If you have any level of contact with people while travelling, you will encounter some stereotypes. Here are some examples:

You are Italian. Therefore Americans think:

• You are in the Mafia.
• You-a talk-a like-a this-a.
• You wear the latest clothes and have pointy shoes.
• You yell all the time.

I am Texan. Therefore Italians think:

• I am a cowboy.
• I have a horse.
• I own pistols and wear them in holsters on my belt.
• I am JR Ewing.

Some cultural stereotypes can be funny and should be taken in fun (I just can’t get offended if someone calls me JR Ewing). On the other hand, some stereotypes are not funny at all.

One of the most shortsighted questions that anyone can ask about a country is “How were the people?” There are friendly people everywhere and there are mean people everywhere. Contrary to some popular opinions, the French are not rude. Certain French people are rude, just as certain Americans are rude. A culture cannot be judged by certain individuals. To do so is to perpetuate cultural stereotypes, which defeats the purpose of traveling in the first place.

Insanitá, o La Vita con La Mia Familia – Insanity, or Life with My Family

One of the main reasons I chose this particular study abroad program is because it would give me the chance to visit my family in Rome. After the program in Castiglion Fiorentino was over, I hopped the train to Rome to stay with my Uncle Mauro and Aunt Angela, along with their son Francesco, for the rest of the summer. This was the beginning of the most difficult part of my travels – total immersion into the Italian culture. My family in Rome doesn’t speak a lick of English, so it was to be all Italian from then on. My language skills had gotten fairly good, but I still wasn’t ready to expound on a topic with any degree of fluency.

I knew I’d be in for a bit of culture shock when I had to totally forgo 21 years of the English language, but if I had known how frustrating and insane it was going to be at times, I would have at least packed a straightjacket with me!

Immersion is hard. It’s frustrating to not be able to eloquently say what’s on your mind. It’s frustrating (and sometimes hilarious for everyone but you) to screw up and say the wrong thing. It’s frustrating to have a barrage of fast, unintelligible syllables hurled at you.

My family didn’t make for a particularly smooth transition. Aunt Angela is like a shotgun blast of culture shock. Speaking at a mile a minute and not stopping regardless of how fast my head was spinning, she gave me little peace.

If Aunt Angela is a shotgun, Uncle Mauro is a hand grenade. Deadly quiet, until you pull the pin, and BOOM! A deafening explosion of cultural shrapnel that had me running for cover. Mauro possesses a bellowing roar that can stop the world if you push his buttons, and while his salvo was rarely aimed at me, like a grenade, I could feel the effects of the blast.

Communication with my cousin Francesco was even more difficult because he is completely deaf. Through a combination of hand gestures, slowly mouthed Italian, and pen and paper we managed to communicate enough to get us around. Francesco took me everywhere in Rome; from restaurants and video arcades to go-kart tracks and computer stores, all on the back of his motor scooter, which, in classic Roman style, was always at full speed and weaving dangerously between moving cars. For all of the difficulties I had in communicating (and sharing a room) with Francesco, it was a great learning experience in two ways: in interacting with a family member from another culture on an intimate level, and in interacting with someone who is deaf; both of which were firsts for me.

In the end, despite all of the frustrations, staying with my family was an incredibly rewarding experience. My family treated me fantastically and showed me around Rome as only locals can. It was fun to adapt to the Italian ways of eating, pursuing leisure, and communicating with family. An Italian family is a truly different entity; as in art, it’s not necessarily better or worse, just different. My Italian family could be overbearing and hot-tempered at times, but they could also be extremely warm and giving.

As stated before, I always knew about other cultures and other people having other ways of doing things. But I never had the experience, literally in this case, of “doing as the Romans do.” My family gave me that chance, and it’s something that I’ll carry with me until the end.

Conclusions

The longing for travel is one of the most basic human traits. Since the beginning, mankind has looked to the sea and to the stars for new frontiers. This urge to travel doesn’t necessarily have an ultimate reason or goal – the point of the journey isn’t necessarily to arrive. If someone were to ask me beforehand what my goals for the trip were, I’d have replied with something like “to have fun.” Many emotions drew me to Italy, but if I were hard pressed to decide on goals, I’d pick three:

• To learn the Italian language
• To spend time with my family
• To get as far away from College Station, Texas as humanly possible

I fulfilled all of these goals and learned a lot in the process. I learned to speak decent Italian, but I now understand the plight of a non-English speaker coming to America. It’s hard to learn another language and keep your sanity at the same time.

Living with my family, I discovered what day-to-day life is like in another culture. I also learned that I am truly American in every sense of the word. No matter how much I identify with the Italian culture, a little time in Italy made me realize just how American I truly am. Italians have a different way of living. The key is that it is different – not better, not worse – just different. Discovering this different way of life was the most important part of my trip.

By getting away from College Station for a semester I gave myself the ultimate break. Spending a few months in another country is the perfect way to refresh the academic mind. Contrary to what I thought in the beginning of the trip, by the end I was looking forward to getting back to the States and getting back to business, but with a new perspective on things.

My advice to any college student is to study abroad. Don’t even think twice. It is definitely the most rewarding time you can spend in school. When you do go, remember a few things: Carve your own path. Don’t get too upset at minor inconveniences; the memory, thankfully, won’t hold on to them when you are back home. Only take pictures of things you’ll care about later. Open up and try almost anything once.

Finally, one of the most powerful things this trip has given to me is a hunger for more travel. I long to see more places and live in new ways. There is a great big world, and I want to squeeze it for every ounce of life I can while I’m here. If anything, this trip gave me a wider sense of scope, and my sights are now firmly set on new seas and new stars.

Marc Cellucci
10/15/98