Don't take pictures of Italian kids!

Just as an FYI for anyone who was thinking about coming to Italy and taking pictures of children on playgrounds: don't do it! Apparently some kid on the playground next to Alma Mater thought they saw some person take a picture out the window of the hostel. (Don't worry, my window isn't near the playground, and I wouldn't be taking pictures of them, I would be playing with them.) He told his parents, and two angry parents at the front desk became a crowd of fifteen which became a crowd of fifty. After the hostel director and the police were called, they're gone--two hours later. Methinks Stefano at the front desk needs at least a carton of cigarettes by now! So much for nice quiet hostel in a nice quiet park! I found the whole thing hilarious, and yes, I know I have a sick sense of humor!

God is stalking me part 3: NOISE

I started school yesterday too--grad school, I should say. For the two weeks that are here in Bologna, we are attending the NOISE summer school, which has masters and doctorate level women's and gender studies students from all over Europe. The students on my program are the only undergrads here, so which means we are reading and discussing at crazy high theoretical levels with students from an academic format and philosophical tradition that we are unfamiliar with. Despite not really having read the readings (and the Mary Wollstonecraft was a chapter that I hadn't read before), I managed to put in enough. But then again when you talk about feminist theory you get to a certain point and you can put semi-coherent theoretical concepts together and almost sound like you know what you are talking about. Or just remember everything you learned in Intro to Women's Studies.

So, about this school thing. I was really sad about having to do a semester of school while traveling through Europe. I have so gotten used to meandering the piazzas and sitting on park benches eating gelato. So instead aimlessly wondering Bologna's porticos, I entered a convent. NOISE classes are being held in the 17th century Santa Cristina's Convent, so I am seriously wondering why I left one convent school to go to another! Our main lectures are held in an old chapel (like what was formerly the main chapel for the nuns prayers) and the little five person discussion group is in a little chapel off of the main courtyard. I think it's great and a little ironic that we have brought our outrageously radical feminist selves to site of one of the Pope's former outposts of feminism. Feminists have infiltrated the Church!

Yesterday was a general introduction to the summer school, and we look at what constitutes a feminist manifesto and liberal feminism by reading Mary Wollstonecraft and Olympe deGouges. I was so tired that I found my self sleeping through a lecture by the leading feminist philosopher in Europe. Today we examined radical feminism and violence by reading the SCUM Manifesto. I am really excited for the reading for the next couple of days on African American feminism and intergenerational feminism, because one of the readings for the intergenerational is by the one and only Astrid Henry.

So yeah, after I realized that I am going to school in a convent, I realized that God is following me throughout Bologna (I am actually kind of religious). It's really pretty awesome, and I have to pinch myself (or just itch the mosquito bites I have from being outside so much). I am really homesick (which is pretty uncharacteristic for me), but I'm Italy so Italy makes things so much better! I think I need some gelato for dinner. Ciao!

God is stalking me part 2: I went to church!

I finally made it to church! I had a really bad case of cabin fever on Sunday afternoon--like I couldn't stay at the hostel for more than twenty minutes before I was back at the bus stop ready to go back into town. Again, absolutely no plan, but by now that shouldn't be surprising. There is a church along the bus route, so on a whim I went to check it out. Sacre Coeur (I can't remember what it is in Italian) is simply gorgeous inside. I don't think the building itself is that old, perhaps since World War II, but the alter at the front and the alters in the chapels and the confessionals were all quite old and had obvious been brought from somewhere else. When I went in the rosary was being said. It felt wonderful to just simply sit in church, knowing that I did not have to understand Italian to know what they were saying and take part. After the rosary ended, it was clear mass was going to start, and I felt there would be no way I could leave. The order of the mass was printed in a program, so I mumbled my way through the Italian pronunciation and filled in the other prayers under my breathe in English. I realized I was in shorts and a black t-shirt that barely covered my shoulders, so I wrapped my purple Kenyan scarf around my shoulders. I probably didn't need to, but I was in a Catholic church in Italy. It felt so nice to be sitting in church at the same time my friends were, plus I told my dad last Sunday that I would go to church this Sunday--in Italy. Again, no one really knew that I was a tourist who spoke no Italian; when my program dropped on the floor the (really cute) guy next to me moved his over so we could share. That's when I realized I was just like every other worshipper there, and also wished I knew Italian so I could start a conversation with this guy. Once again, I was just another Bolognese, which made me smile.

God is stalking me--Part 1: The Leaning Tower of...Bologna?

First off, I just want to say that I hope everyone had a fantastic first day of class. Wait, is that possible? When I checked Facebook today (I know some of you just had coronaries), everyone seemed super excited about starting, and I got all of the beginning of the year emails that made me really wish I was starting class at SMC (yes, I am really homesick).

I know I haven't been updating the blog like I did the first couple of days. Bad me. Since I started meeting up with people on Saturday and school starting yesterday, I haven't had a whole lot of time (obviously). So instead of updating one really long post, I'll will show you in three installments as to how God is following me all over Bologna. At least God's a cool stalker.

Friday night I headed into the old town by myself, along with half of Bologna. I had no plan, I didn't really know what I was doing. I just found a bus that would take me down there, and when something looked interesting I hopped off. I ended up on the Piazza Maggiore, the main square in town. Medieval walls surround the square, and there is this castle/fort thing that I can picture people throwing boiling water off during the middle ages. At no time when I was downtown did I feel unsafe, but the only problem about wondering around the city alone is that I don't feel I can whip my camera out and play around with the pictures without a neon sign over my head that says tourist in bright pink letters. I walked down the street until something caught me interest. After I stopped in at a used bookstore (air conditioning!), I saw it: a leaning tower! I've got news for Pisa, they don't have a leaning tower monopoly, they just publicize the fact that their university engineering department kind of sucked back in the day. I'd been seeing signs all over town that said "due torri" (two towers--now we know where Tolkein stole it from), and all of a sudden they were right there. The straight one is twice as tall, but totally not as cool as the leaning one. There was gelateria next door, so I grabbed dinner (hey, I'm in Italy and who is going to tell me that I can't have gelato for dinner every night if I want!) and if you get a medium you can get three flavors. As much as I love berries, the strawbaby and raspbaby gelato don't hold a candle to that scoop of heaven that was the chocolate gelato. On the two towers piazza (which should be the site for my take on lord of the rings) they were setting up for some sort of street performance. Hey, free entertainment! It had a religious theme, given the fact that Father Bernardino from the chuch on the piazza came and introduced it. From what I could gather it was traditional Bolognese theatre that was meant to tell a story from the gospels. One guy was totally the rodeo clown, another was in a box, two were jugglers/acrobats, and the really tall and really cute one was on stilts. They acted out parables as they juggled, pantomimed, and did magic tricks. I think I had more fun not having a clue as to what they were saying and laughed hysterically the entire time. No one knew that I was an American tourist, and I had an amazing time being Bolognese for an evening, and that was when I think I got hooked. I sat on the piazza in the evening light, music playing, acrobats juggling, people laughing, surrounded by ancient buildings and I thought "this is Italy, and I'm a part of it."

Horoscope Interpretations

"Your flexibility has always been an asset, and today it will be your lifesaver."

And what is my horoscope supposed to mean today? Are Tauruses supposed to be flexible? Oh, boy...

Pizza Paradiso

I just had the most amazing pizza ever! It makes me sick to think what the dining hall does to its pizza. Little heaps of fresh formaggio (I looked the word up after I ordered) and it was burned in all the right places. I am so full. But I did learn never parallel park in Italy--a guy made room to park his car by backing in to the car behind him. I thought I would get some gelato after I ate--silly American! OK, either sleep or old town, and I think I am going to choose old town. Pics later, hopefully!

Getting to Bologna was the easy part...

Hey all! I finally made it to Bologna! Exactly 24 hours after my plane took off from O'Hare I made it to Bologna. A four year old could not have been more excited than I was when I boarded the airplane. It was so hard to say good-bye to my family, and if I would have known how upset my little brother was going to get, I might have thought twice about going. And I am disappointed to say that I did not argue with airport security--they were really mean (but I did get the handheld metal detector search at Gatwick--I am so dangerous I knew it would happen sometime!) It hit me as I started walking down the ramp that I was leaving my family and friends and basically everything I'd ever known for four months. But then I got on plane. Can we say window seat!!! And no one was sitting next to me, so I had two seats to myself. Out of all of the movies I could have seen, I watched Wild Hogs again, the same movie that I watched with my (big) family on Sunday. I was cracking up when everyone else was asleep. On the other tv screen I had the map of where we were, and the sunset was amazing!!! So was the food, until the obnoxious guy ahead of me decided he was going to lean his seat back in the middle of dinner and keep it there until we landed (my seat didn't lean back). He was one of these crazy confrontational guys, so I just pushed my legs against the back of the seat which woke him up from his beauty sleep a few times. I didn't get much sleep, too much adrenaline. Over Ireland I played Madonna ("Like a Virgin" of course), some Nirvana to break up the quietness of the plane, and the Beatles as we flew into England over Liverpool.
For some reason, landing at Heathrow was like knowing I was going to see an old friend, don't ask me why. British immigration is pretty crazy! Even though my luggage was overweight, it made to London. I took a shuttle from Heathrow to Gatwick. Someone told me that Heathrow and Gatwick were relatively close together; yeah, right, one is on the northwest side of London and the other is on the southeast side way outside of the city. Upside of the hour long bus ride, the really cute guy sitting next to me. I had no idea that Gatwick would be so nice--or busy. As I sat in Gatwick, I realized that I was one of the only Americans in the place, and that was going to be how the next few months would go. I like the shopping in Gatwick much more than at Heathrow, though it's not like I did much of it. My flight to Bologna was 30 minutes late, and as I sat there listening to everyone, another blast of reality came my way; I had no idea what people around me were saying. My window seat (yep, I'm so wonderful) gave me the chance to see the still-snowcovered Alps coming through the clouds, Lake Geneva with its huge fountain, and the Appinnine mountains of northern Italy. Call me crazy, but I was really surprised when I saw all of the Italian villas outside my window; I guess I thought that was just the stuff of movies and the tourism industry. When we touched down in Bologna, I had another new experience, emptying the plane on the tarmac. (Not like it was a big deal, I'd just never done it.) The airport in Bologna is just a bit bigger than South Bend regional, and because I raced to immigration, it took me no time. The guy didn't question me, but it wasn't like I could have answered his questions anyway. In the airport, I couldn't find the directions to the hostel or which buses to take. I had to rely on my really bad memory to figure out that I had to take the airport shuttle to the central train station. Bologna is beautiful!!! It is red and rustic and I can't believe I'm here! But like I said, getting to Bologna was the easy part. I found an internet point and called home (for what I thought was a really good deal). I printed out the directions sans a map. But it was after nightfall, and the buses pick up all over an area of a square block, so finding the right one took me well over an hour--IN THE DARK!! I didn't catch a bus until 9:44, and the stairs were so steep that I couldn't lug my suitcase up the steps. But again, I really cute guy helped (I could really get used to that!). Thank God someone was getting off at the same stop that I needed, because I couldn't see a thing from the bus. Then I couldn't see the streetsigns, so I just started walking one way down the street. After nearly getting attacked by one of their dogs, two really nice teenagers helped me to my hostel. This was done my a lot of 'si's and hand signals. Everyone seems to speak as much English as I speak Italian--next to nothing. But they usually speak more English than I speak Italian. So I am getting by with lots of 'grazie's and 'mi scuzi's. Today I added 'buen giorno' and 'ciao' after I had to go to a grocery store to get handsoap for my room (which is really modern, especially compared with Le Mans, but trust me, the beds at SMC are so much more comfortable). Finally I opened the window (don't worry moms, it's on the third floor), laid my tired little self down, and let the noise of the Bolognese streets lull me to sleep. I have not had any jet lag thanks to a near constant supply of adrenaline, and after my full night's sleep and shower, I am feeling so much better and now I am going to try to find something to eat. Ciao! Mi piace everyone!

Haha, so you think I'm in Europe?

Hey all! Today, I will be going to London!!! Do you think I am just a little excited? But does something about this with those of you who are keeping track (or remembered), as of 4:20 Tuesday, I was supposed to be on my way to the Emerald Isle. But, because I am typing this in the small hours of Wednesday, I am sitting at my family's computer in good ol' Elkhart, Indiana.



Well, it all started when Aer Lingus decided that it wasn't going to pay its Belfast pilots the same as it pays pilots in the rest of Ireland. I guess the Guinness in Northern Ireland must not be as good as the Guinness south of the border. And what happens when you don't pay all pilots in the same airline the same rate?--they go on strike! Starting at 12:01 on Tuesday morning, all Aer Lingus pilots went on strike, forcing the airline to cancel all flights for the rest of the week (pardon me, the airline calls this a "disruption"). I read the email this past Thursday night, and on Friday morning I spent well over an hour listening to the same terrible song about going back home to Ireland, counteracting it the song with "Roam" by the B-52's. Yes, it was a very bad combination. Finally I talked to a guy from Brooklyn (I was so expecting a soft-spoken Irish woman with a melodic Irish accent) who magically changed my $300 Aer Lingus ticket into a $1200 Virgin Atlantic seat--all without kissing a frog or or paying a single penny more! I wouldn't have minded riding Aer Lingus, because I have heard that it is very nice, but Virgin Atlantic (I feel I have to have that last part in there) is luxury airline where they serve passengers real food! It was a little scary for a while, but things always happen for a reason, and I like my current travel plan much better.



So what am I actually doing?

Today, Wednesday August 22: Leave Chicago O'Hare at 6:00 p.m.; arrive at London Heathrow at 8:00 a.m. London time

Thursday August 23: London Gatwick at 2:50 to Bologna, Italy arriving at 6:00 p.m. Stay at Collegio Alma Mater until September 8 when we leave Bologna for Krakow, Poland.



I will post the itinerary and more later. This is the first time I have done a blog, and please keep in mind that I am the person who declared a one-woman boycott of Facebook (although I am becoming slightly more addicted). I know that