Author: priscilla.quaye.1@nd.edu

The last week! I’ve had a wonderful time here in Italy. I can definitely say that I learned a plethora of grammatical rules and tenses in Rome with ItaliaIdea. I am so very grateful to the donors who were generous enough to give me this opportunity, and I will undoubtedly be back in Italy, if not Rome.

This past week, there was the national holiday Ferragosto on Tuesday. Ferragosto was originally a pagan holiday, but because Catholicism is the national religion of Italy, it has been transformed to celebrate the Assumption of Mary. That day, the whole of Rome seemed void of Italians. This is because most Italians leave the city to flock to the beaches and have lunch or dinner and party with their friends and family. Since I didn’t have class, however, Huda and I had an American breakfast at a bar called Meccanismo in Trastevere and then right after, we went to the Borghese Gardens. We got refreshments and sat in the park and talked, watching Italians and tourists alike pass the holiday out in nature.

 

 

 

 

Later that evening, we met one of Huda’s friends, Jurgita, at the Spanish steps. Coming from Lithuania, she had just finished an internship in Florence and was living in Rome. She had just returned to Rome from a vacation at home and it was her birthday, so we celebrated by getting gelato and then sitting on the spanish steps to talk.

Friday, my last day, I ended up having lunch with Huda before class and we went to this Sicilian bakery we knew near Via Arenula. Later that night, we had our last dinner tonight at a well-known restaurant, Nonna Betta, in the Jewish Quarter.

This week started out very interesting. After the adventure I’d had the past weekend in Nemi, I had a relatively relaxing week.

Sunday, I went to a contemporary art museum. Each first Sunday of the month, museums offer free admission. My appreciation of contemporary art started during the winter of 2015 when I went to a museum in Vienna. Since then, I have been fascinated in the narratives and mediums in which contemporary art manifests itself.

 

Since August is the month of vacation for Italians, our instructor left on vacation and we have a substitute. Monday in class, we talked about racism, the European immigrant crisis as it pertains to Italy, and political correctness, or the lack thereof in Italy. It was a really refreshing conversation to have with an Italian, and our teacher, Martina, was very interested to hear what we had to say on the subject. Martina had just returned to Italy in May from a Fulbright fellowship in the U.S. and expressed to us the large influence that the U.S. plays on Italy. We read an article about a Senegalese musician in Italy, McTalibe. He was going into a radio interview, and the interviewers wanted to play an innocent prank on him. They knew he had a large family with lots of siblings, and they were planning to call a vacation apartment rental for him that they knew would be too small for his family. The joke was that they would ask the landlord if there was room for his 27 brothers. Once they called the landlord, however, and she found out that he was a Senegalese immigrant, the apartment was suddenly unavailable. One of his Italian radio counterparts called the same woman to ask about the availability of the space, and she told him it was at his disposal.

Following that, we talked about the large number of northern African and middle eastern refugees who have had to flee their homes to come live in Europe. One of my classmates is partially Italian and has relatives who live in northern Italy. Upon visiting them, he told us that his cousin expressed hate for refugees. Her idea was that they would just come into the country and take welfare, but didn’t contribute to the economy or community in any way: they don’t spend money, they don’t work, and they don’t speak italian. This, to me, is such a narrow-minded view of people. If there were a way fro these people to stay in their countries, they wouldn’t leave the places they call home. Additionally, the process in order to obtain visas and resident documents is something that has to be taken into consideration. Not only is there a negative view of immigrants (and foreigners in general) in Italy, but there are many inappropriate terms and slang used to describe them. One thing I have noticed in Italy over the time spent here is the lack of political correctness. The United States has it’s own (and larger) issues when it comes to racism, but one thing that activists and anyone sensitive to the racial divide are sensitive to is the language we use to talk about one another. Here, I think it is more accepted to use inappropriate and targeted language because, to those Italians, its a joke. They are “playing.” Despite the issues that these terms and attitudes breed, I can’t help but see it as “racism lite.” I don’t want to seem like I am discrediting the gravity of the immigrant crisis and I certainly don’t condone or agree with the ideas, but in light of recent events in the United States, I can’t help but dread my return. After I read this article, I was deeply upset and disappointed at the lack of reaction that I witnessed from the nation.

On a brighter note, today, I was went to the historic Porta Portese market. The largest and oldest market in Rome, the Porta Portese market is famous to locals and tourists alike. There are a variety of items from clothing and shoes to antiques and even antique alcohol. I ended up buying earrings for my mom and sister and a rug for my apartment!

This week marked the midpoint of my SLA, and I have to say I have the same feeling of dread about leaving Rome as I did last year at this time.

Besides beginning the second half of the semester, not much went on during the week. I did, however, make it to Nemi on Saturday! Getting there and and back from Rome was pure hell. I had taken the train from Rome’s central train station to Albano Laziale, the place where I should have changed busses last weekend. Upon arriving in Albano, I was greeted with closed shops and restaurants due to the month of vacation that Italians take in August, the feria d’agosto. I walked around the city for about 15 minutes and finally found an open bar to ask about the regional bus. When I entered, there were three men inside. I asked the barista where I could catch the bus, and then followed his directions to the bus stop outside. After about 5 minutes of waiting, someone drove up and waved to me to go into the car. I shook my head and he drove away. Five minutes later, he returned and asked if I was the girl from the bar trying to get to Nemi. I responded that I was, and he told me he was heading in that direction, so he would take me there.

Skeptical as I was, no busses had been passing and the whole town seemed dead, so I got in. I ended up meeting Paolo, who was heading nearby Nemi to pick up a set of keys from his wife. He reassured me that I shouldn’t be skeptical, and that it was an off-day for the busses, so who knew if it would even pass. He dropped me off about 10 minutes later in Nemi. Once I got out and saw the cute, strawberry decked town, I shook of the stress of getting there and decided to walk around. The town, situated on a hill overlooking small Lake Nemi, was very local. I stopped first in a bar to have a lemon cake with fragoline, the sacred fruit that had driven me there in the first place. I sat outside and ate my cake in front of an unforgettable view of the lake.

Having previously researched some of the town attractions, I set out to find the remains of an ancient temple. After exiting the town gate, I found a panorama. I walked five minutes down and found a hiking trail. Using trusty google maps, I descended into the trail. Thirty or so minutes later, without a water bottle and facing the stifling heat, I felt so dehydrated. I was minutes away from the temple, and decided I should go anyway because there would probably be a concession stand there. I found a gate with an inscription of the Temple of Diana, and walked through. At the end of the drive, I found what seemed to look like a park shelter. Outside, there was a woman playing with a dog, and when I came back out, she asked me what was wrong. I explained to her that I was looking for the temple remains. She informed me that I was on private property–the temple was in the other direction–and that it was actually closed. Disappointed and thirsty, I thanked her and turned back toward the hiking trail that would take me back to the town center.

 

Uphill was worse, and the angle of the sun made it impossible for me to get back up without taking multiple breaks. By the time I reached the center and the drinking fountain in the piazza, I felt sick. I took a long drink of water and sat down at the bench. After sitting there for about 20 minutes, I decided I should figure out a way to get back into Rome. I opened up a taxi app that I had and requested a taxi for the next half hour. After rehydrating and learning that the taxis could only be requested to leave from Rome when the drivers didn’t show up, I decided I needed to find a way to get back to Albano Laziale to get a train back to Rome.

Google maps had a pretty clear walking route. After I bought a bottle of water and two containers of fragoline, I began the two hour walk back to Albano. In the end, I made it back to Albano and was able to catch a train back to Rome a half hour later (ironically, on the walk back, three regional busses passed by me when I wasn’t at a bus stop). Thankful to be home, I marveled at how strange the day had been and concluded that the universe really hadn’t wanted me to get to Nemi, and since I had arrived (against the universe’s wishes), it wasn’t going to be an easy trip. In the end, I can say that I got some nice photos and a lesson. If it’s too difficult to arrive, better to choose another destination! My fragoline ended up being smashed up by the time I reached my apartment, so I just made jam with them.