Month: August 2017

Post Departure

Reflect on your language learning and acculturation during your SLA Grant experience.

Before I came to Siena I was able to live in Rome for 5 weeks. Everybody, except my neighbor, refused to speak to me in anything other than English since they all knew English, and my Italian wasn’t up to par, not to mention my accent. I spoke with Pino, the very old carpenter a couple of times, but one time I apologized that my Italian was so bad but that I was learning, and he replied “I know.” I knew my goals coming into the program were lofty, but they helped me set the right intention for learning. Instead of hanging out with American students, I tried to spend time with my host family. In the beginning I was so exhausted from constantly readying myself to respond in Italian, even when relaxing at home, trying to think in Italian, and going to class all day. Eventually I was able to build up the endurance to casually watch Italian TV shows, even if they were mostly kid shows, as well as follow the dinner conversation without zoning out at the table. In the beginning I was relegated to the kids table having no social worth with my comprehension and speaking skills at the level they were. But by the end, I loved meeting people and having conversations about who they were and what they did (I even met the top gelato salesmen in Indonesia). When I returned to Rome, I went to dinner at a place I had been once before, but this time I ordered and had a conversation in Italian with the waiter who was very excited I could actually speak Italian.

Reflect on your SLA Grant experience overall.

Thanks to the SLA Grant it feels like I have gone 0 to 100 with language ability and understanding of Italian culture. What I found most fascinating, however, is that my worldview didn’t change as much from being in Italy and learning Italian culture for myself as it did from observing how my non American classmates interacted with life in Italy. It was incredible to watch so many people experience Italy through their own lens, and in the process different parts of Italian culture were highlighted for me as well as parts of my classmates cultures. Everyday I was so thankful to have the ability to take the fantastic classes and live with a wonderful host family. I did get a little tired of Italy when I had a virus the final week, and my host family gave me pizza for medicine, but when I returned home I immediately missed Italy.

How do you plan to use your language and intercultural competences in the future? 

I am grateful for this experience as next semester I am heading to Bologna Italy where I will be lining with other Italian students and taking all of my classes in Italian. Without this experience I would be much more unprepared and nervous for Bologna. This semester I am taking two classes about Italian literature in Italian. I am majoring in medieval studies but concentrating on the Mediterranean area and specifically Italy. I hope to continue I the field, with my ability to speak Italian majorly supporting my career trek. Post graduation I plan on living and working in Italy.

Ciao amici!

Progress! I met a group of Italian university students this week! They are from different places throughout Italy, from La Spezia and Bolzano to Rimini and Calabria. They’ve started something of a battle among themselves to teach me their respective accents and expressions, which are sometimes drastically different from each other. For example, in Siena, some consonants are “aspirate”, for example, the “c” is sometimes pronounced more like an “h”. In Siena they don’t say “la coca-cola,” normally pronounced “lah coh-cah coh-lah”); rather, they say “lah hoh-hah hoh-lah”.

My new friends, and most of the Italians I’ve met, seem very intrigued by President Trump and always ask me what I think about the election and the current political situation. For the most part, going off of what the media shows, we all agree that he is somewhat of a “pazzo” (“crazy”). They find it particularly amusing that he wants to build a wall separating the US from Mexico and that he wants to make Mexico pay for it.

After answering some questions about the US political system, I asked about Italian politics. The first response is usually somewhat of a scoff, then I eventually find myself listening to a heated discussion, full of raised voices and gesturing, between two of my friends who have very strong and opposing political ideas.

Starting to Feel at Home

I don’t get lost on my way to school anymore. Classes are going pretty well. I sense my improvement coming in tiny increments, which can be frustrating at times, since I had expected to notice a more dramatic change in my Italian skills after 2 weeks. I would attribute this slow growth to 2 things: 1) I have reached the point at which I have learned all the tenses and most of the grammatical rules and can understand pretty much everything that’s said to me, but have not yet had enough practice talking to native speakers. 2) I have not met many local Italians with whom I can make more than small talk.

I have been attending Mass several times a week, which has helped with my listening skills. It’s interesting to hear the different accents of the different priests and lectors, the subtle differences with which they pronounce their “c’s” and “z’s.” I also love the churches in Siena. Most of them have relics of saints and the architecture and artwork are “bellissime.”

Living with a host family has also been conducive to learning. I’ve picked up several words and expressions from listening to my Italian siblings fight. My favorite is “Cretino!” which basically means “stupid.” My host mom, sister, and twin brothers are very polite and helpful when I ask random things about Italian words I don’t know. I love that I’ve been picking up expressions that I never learned in class. For example, I always learned that “Prego” was the way to say “you’re welcome,” but in Siena, most people seem to respond with “Niente,” which means “nothing.” These little things that I never would have learned in class are what makes studying abroad such an invaluable experience. It makes my speaking seem more natural.

Another interesting realization I’ve had is that every language that I speak brings with it almost a new personality. For instance, I express myself in a totally different way in English than I do in Spanish or Italian.

Buongiorno Italia!

If my first day in Italy is any indicator of how the rest of my summer in this country is going to play out, then I am in for quite the adventure. The one word that comes to mind to describe my first encounter with “la bella Italia” is “hectic.” As soon as I got off the plane at FCO, I was overwhelmed by the number of travelers scrambling around like ants. I was already tired from traveling for so long, and the signs were all (obviously) in Italian, but I followed the crowd and fortunately managed to catch a train from the airport to the city center.

Roma Termini is probably the most chaotic place I have ever been in, and I pretty quickly got lost in the maze of shops and tourists, so I decided to test out my Italian. I walked into a shop, greeted the woman at the counter, and asked in Italian where I could find a store to buy an Italian SIM card for my phone. To my dismay, she responded in English. Strike one for me. Apparently in Rome, everyone speaks English, and as soon as an Italian gets a whiff of tourist, he’ll immediately switch to English. Frustrating for anyone trying to learn the language.

After somehow making it clear to the people at Vodafone that I needed an Italian SIM card and a phone plan, I went to Mass at Santa Maria degli Angeli with my friend Harriet. It was the first Italian Mass I had ever attended, and it was absolutely beautiful. I followed along well with the program, but the homily was difficult to understand. After Mass, Harriet showed me to the station where I was supposed to catch a bus to Siena. I asked the clerk if I could buy a ticket, but he said it was full, so I rushed to the train station and ended up taking the next train.

I struggled to stay awake on the train ride, so as not to miss my connection. Fortunately, I made it in time, after walking back and forth in the station, trying to figure out whether or not I had to buy a second ticket, where I had to validate it, which platform I was supposed to be on, which train it was, etc. I was slightly stressed at that point.

Once on the train, I sat across from an older woman. I smiled and said, “Ciao.” She responded politely, then asked me something that I didn’t understand. So I told her that I didn’t speak much Italian, which sparked a conversation. She was excited when I told her I was from California and that I would be studying Italian in Siena. She let me borrow her phone charger so I could call my host family and she gave me her phone number, telling me to call her anytime and also mentioning that she had a handsome son only a few years older than me. And single.

When I arrived at the train station, in my exhaustion, I accidentally went in a wrong door and ended up in a mini shopping mall across the street. Long story short, it took me another hour to find my host family. I apologized as best as I could in my broken Italian. They just kept saying “Niente. Non ti preoccupare.” I showered as soon as I got home, then went into the kitchen for dinner. They asked if I wanted to dry my hair, something I never did back home. I uncomfortably said, “It’s fine, I can do it after dinner.” They stared at me sort of strangely, and I decided to go find a hairdryer first thing the following day.

Giorgio’s Baptism – “Battesimo Contradialo”

One night walking back from aperitivo, my host family was discussing their weekend and asked me if I wanted to come to Giorgio’s, the baby’s, baptism that Saturday. Of course I jumped at the opportunity and replied “Sì, certo!!” They were very happy I said yes, but began explaining that this wasn’t a regular baptism.

First they told me it was a “pagano” baptism. With an obviously confused look on my face as I was trying to figure out if I had really heard “pagan baptism,” Donatello tried to explain the meaning of the word pagan to me. I was more hung up on what a pagan baptism was (what kinds of rituals would take place?) as opposed to the meaning of what Donatello was saying. Next he tried explaining that it would be a group baptism and lots of babies born that year would be baptized. This only added to my confusion, but after failing to understand for a full five minutes, I decided to let it go and see what would happen on Saturday.

It has been fun navigating the misunderstandings so far. Oftentimes, like the “pagan baptism” situation, I don’t necessarily have a problem with understanding the individual words; I just don’t understand the cultural context or the general gist of the situation. To make matters more complicated, my host family usually doesn’t understand what I don’t understand. In class the next day I asked my professor what she thought, and she immediately realized that I would be attending a contrada baptism.

Every summer each contrada has a festival week, which begins with the baptism ceremony to celebrate their patron saint/Mary. Onda celebrates Our Lady of the Visitation. Anyone joining the contrada that year has to be baptized into it, and you can only join one contrada. The picture I included above is Giorgio being baptized. In the image you can see the special scarf being tied around Giorgio. Every member of the contrada receives this special silk scarf at their baptism and wears it to contrada events and to be “patriotic.” The picture below is the contrada dinner celebrating the baptism. The whole community comes out to celebrate all the baptized babies.

Post-Program: Final Thoughts

I am deeply grateful for this summer’s experience in Beijing. It was my first trip to mainland China, and I am so glad to have had two full months of Chinese learning at China’s best university. I learned to think creatively, especially in situations where the language barrier became a serious inconvenience. Once I entered a store where there was not a word of English anywhere, and despite my limited Chinese, I used what basic vocabulary I knew to find help in getting what I needed. Body language, careful observance, and preparation are so helpful when getting around local places. Being fully immersed in this very Chinese city also helped me understand the importance of practicing speaking a new language. Hearing and speaking Mandarin daily was one of the most significant parts of the Chinese-learning experience. Right now, I am making it a goal to regularly watch, or listen to Chinese television and music to help keep the sound of Mandarin in my head. The friends I made in Beijing also encouraged me to find other Mandarin-speaking people at my home to practice speaking Chinese with.

Journaling throughout this program has also helped me to record the process of my adjustment to life in Beijing. Learning to be flexible and alert was necessary to interacting with a different set of people, but I found that patience and kindness were equally valuable. When I didn’t have the Chinese words to express myself, body language and attitude were more useful than I expected. Losing my way in Wudaokou led to conversation with locals that consisted of a lot of laughing and nodding.

The SLA Grant experience has encouraged me to continue looking for ways to make unique experiences more meaningful. During our various outings, I took notes in my journal for our blog posts. A little while passed, and I began writing journals for the sake of preserving and re-living my favorite China experiences. This summer was the first time I felt that I had truly gotten to know Chinese language, and my hope is to build on my study abroad experience by reading more on China. At Peking University, I learned the Chinese way of learning, and these are methods that I will apply to the coming years at Notre Dame.

The Fighting Irish are a match for terra-cotta warriors any day

Just What I Didn’t Need

Beijing, for a long time, was known as a city of bicycles. Even now, armies of bicycles crowd the gray sidewalks of Beijing and roll down the streets alongside cars. In some places along the sidewalk, the space left for walking has been so narrowed by bikes that it feels the sidewalk is more a parking lot for rows of rental bikes than a convenience for pedestrians.

Encountering technological issues just when trying to pay for an Ofo rental bike

Unlike the recreational purpose most bike-riding has in the U.S., Chinese depend on their bikes as serious forms of transportation to get them to and from work, school, or wherever they need to go. Naturally, we had many long conversations about biking in Beijing, and often compared the biking culture of the States and China. In fact, bicycles are so important to Chinese life that a biking phrase has developed and become a common saying when you find yourself in an unfortunate situation. The phrase literally means “my bike chain has dropped.” It is typically used when you find yourself lacking the very thing you need most. For example, if you lost your bus ticket when in a real rush to get somewhere, this would be considered “dropping your bike chain”, because you lost the most necessary item at the worst possible moment. This phrase seems to be a very special Chinese saying, since biking has been a very important part of surviving and thriving in China.

I did hear a few younger folks use the phrase to describe an especially inconvenient situation but I did not catch the phrase on television or on the streets of Beijing. It is a bit more of an established saying, so a wider range of age groups are familiar with the phrase.

When I eventually decided to try my hand at city biking in Beijing, I had a literal experience with my bicycle chain dropping. Hoping to get to class quickly, I found an Ofo rental bike. As I tried to put my foot down on the pedal to move forward, I looked down and noticed that the bike’s chain had dropped and the bike was no use… it was exactly what I didn’t need at that moment, and truly a “dropped bike chain” situation!

Mid-Autumn Festival

08.07.2017

Since my family has few traditions, I find Chinese tradition to be extremely fascinating. The little mannerisms and interactions between people make a difference. Respect and family are of utmost importance, particularly in traditional households. I was told by a friend that Beijing ren can be described by a four character Chinese idiom: 不卑不亢 (bu bei bu kang). Difficult to translate into English, this phrase means something along the lines of, “neither supercilious nor obsequious.” Beijingers respect other’s positions/ status. There are other courteous manners that I learned about at the dinner table. Some manners may vary from family to family, but when two family members toast, the family members who is younger must position the top of their cup lower than that of the older family member. If you cannot reach a person across the table, you tap your glass against the table while maintaining eye contact with that person. I admire these little signs of respect in Chinese households.  Now that I’m on the topic of family, what better way to learn about family than through family reunions and celebrations. Today bring the first day of fall, I have decided to investigate the story behind the mid-autumn festival.

 

After Chinese New Year, the Mid-Autumn festival ranks as a close second in terms of importance. After doing individual research I asked one of my Chinese teachers to explain the significance of as well as her feelings toward this holiday. Her story matches up with the story I learned about through my research; however, I learned that there are many different legends associated with the holiday. One such myth revolves around a pair of lovers: Hou Yi and Chang E. When they were given an elixir of life, Chang E drank the potion on her own to protect Hou Yi. Once she drank the potion she ascended to the moon where her only companion is a rabbit. Every mid-autumn Chinese people take time out of their busy schedules to see the people they miss and love, to see their family members. Just as You Yi can only see his love during the mid-autumn festival when the moon shines especially bright, many Chinese seize the opportunity to arrange large family gatherings. Traditionally everyone eats moon cakes, a sort of cake-ish pastry with various fillings (ex. Red bean or lotus seed). I find the traditions of the mid-autumn festival to be extremely beautiful.

 

When I talked to my teacher she excitedly explained other crucial holidays to me such as the dragon boat festival, lantern festival, Chinese valentines. Chinese have many festivals. Personally, I associate the term “festival” with large public celebrations where communities gather together for the sake of merriment. Made evident through their festivals, public institutions, public land, etc, China truly emphasizes community. Another teacher mentioned to me, America values individualism; China values the collective.

On Shopping in China

I’m not a big spender, but I can easily pass the time with a few hours window shopping. This was harder to do in Beijing. In the oversized, shiny modern shopping malls, the shopping culture holds similarities with the U.S. but on the street or in places like the Pearl Market, the cultural difference is obvious. It’s atypical for people to just wander around the mall looking at things without buying them, and if you try, staff or vendors will pressure you to buy. This pressure to purchase is most pronounced at famous bargaining market locations such as the Pearl Market.

I was not overly familiar with Pearl Market before arriving in Beijing, but later I learned that it was an interesting place to bargain for cheaper goods. All of Pearl Market’s products are off-brand or fakes of pricier brands, so I decided to look around without buying anything. I did not expect the vendors to be so forward, and was certainly taken aback when one very determined lady seized me by the arm and quite literally dragged me into her stall. She hardly paused for a breath while describing to me the superior quality and pricing of her handbags, and as I tried to tell her I had neither the interest nor enough cash for her products, she threw a fake Prada bag into my arms and asked for 120 RMB. Other vendors had a gentler approach but I still often found my arms full of things I had no real interest in buying. They are very quick with putting their bags, or shirts, or whatever it is they’re selling into your hands. If you try to give it back just as quickly, they’ll almost duck away. I only ever felt less inclined to buy in such situations.

The alertness of the vendors is also rather startling; even a glance at their merchandise will have them smiling at you and scrambling to get you to buy their products. In the States, I wander in and out of stores without feeling the need to purchase anything, but in China, or at least Beijing, doing so will often get you decidedly unfriendly looks from shop-keepers.

Stores also use very interesting ways to promote themselves; more than once I saw the staff dancing in or outside stores to get shoppers’ attention. It is not uncommon to see vendors using megaphones to promote their products, even if it’s just tofu. Sometimes, vendors across the street from each other would try to shout over each other, and I ended up not understanding a word of anything. To attract shoppers, staff frequently stand outside stores and hand out flyers or demonstrate how their products work. Some of these can be interesting when a remote-controlled drone is doing loop-de-loops above your head, but others are funny because they’re as trivial as a man “demonstrating” the spinning capabilities of a fidget spinner.

I missed being able to leisurely drift from store to store without a sales clerk breathing down my neck. However, I realized that for many of these people, their income depends on selling as many of their products as possible. In some street stands, vendors had their children watching TV, working on homework, or even napping in the back. I certainly spent less time in stores I had no intention of buying from, but having gained a new perspective, I stopped resenting the attitude of the staff.

Italian Soccer Moms

While in Siena I am staying with a host family. It seemed like the best way to learn the language, but it has turned out to be much more difficult than I expected. My host family is by no means anywhere close to a horror story but it has certainly taken some time to get used to living with them. My host family includes Katia and her 10-year-old son, Alberto, her husband, Donatello, and their 2 month old son Giorgio (my favorite member of the family since we currently have the same ability to speak the language). Below is a picture of “Babbo” (the grandpa) pushing Giorgio in his stroller outside of the apartment. Both sets of grandparents (along with other miscellaneous family and friends who are basically family) visit often making for long and loud dinners.

Language is a huge barrier, which I knew coming into the summer, but the cultural differences have been surprisingly challenging. These differences wouldn’t be so noticeable except for the fact that I’m staying with a host family, so I am constantly confronted by them. Not everything is totally different, though.

This past week my host mom brought me to pick up her son at soccer practice and invited me to join her and her friends at lunch. As I had only been in Siena for a of couple weeks, I was still trying to get a feel for the culture and way people interact, so I mostly remained in the background and observed at these events. At lunch, after a few brief conversations about who I am and why I was there, I sat quietly, limited by my speaking ability, but all the while listening. It turns out a bunch of Italian moms like to gossip the same way American moms would back home. At soccer practice, I watched Katia interact with the other moms in the same way my mom acts when she takes my younger sisters to soccer.

My comprehension has been getting much better. It has taken me awhile to get used to the speed, musicality, and accents of native Italian speakers, but now I am able to understand the gist of what’s being talked about. At lunch I learned what everyone’s kids and husbands were up to and whom everybody wanted to win in the Palio the next weekend (none of their contrade were participating). At the soccer practice I watched the miniscule drama play out between the moms and between the boys. Italy is definitely not America, but people are still people, so some things are universal.

I am very happy to be living with a host family because it really has made my experience here so much more immersive. At least twice a week, my host family and I go out for aperitivo at the di solito (“the usual”) bar. Now the bartender recognizes me even when I am on my own. The neighbors/family friends say hi to me when I pass them on the street. My host family has included me in their life in a way that opens up experiences for me that I never would have had otherwise.