Amanda Ciaramella - Second Time’s the Charm: Feeling at home in Florence

This year, I had the privilege of returning to Italy for a second study abroad experience.   I also studied in Florence last year, but as my first experience on my own in a foreign country, I had difficultly feeling comfortable.  After reentering Florence for the second time this past June, I was hit with a gust of nostalgia.  I remembered where my favorite gelato shops were, and I knew my way around confidently.  By the end of my trip, I did not want to leave!  Last year, I had felt very homesick, and although I loved Italy, there was no place like home.  This year, Italy became my home, and now, I desire even more traveling around Italy and the world.

Cinque Terre, or “Five Lands,” consists of a beautiful beach and scenic view.  This is one of my favorite sites; I highly recommend taking the hike to experience the full beauty!

I was reunited with my friends whom I met in Florence last year!  It is so exciting to hang out with local Italians!

I LOVE Venice!  There’s just something about being surrounded by water that feels so Italian to me!  The gondola ride is cute, but make sure to have a group of five or six since the boats are expensive.

When in Rome!  The Coliseum was probably my favorite part of Rome.   

I also went horseback riding in Tuscany!  Unfortunately I could not get a picture of myself since I was too focused learning how to ride a horse for the first time!

I was reunited with my Art Restoration professor from last summer!  He was like everyone’s adopted Italian grandfather!  

Lastly, here are my creations from my Sculpture class this year!  I took one of the cups home with me.  Unfortunately everything was very heavy so I was unable to bring it all.

The Teeming Streets of Rome ~Katherine McSherry, Study Abroad Peer Advisor, London, England and Rome, Italy

Since my first study abroad program to London, England I have been unable to stop the constant desire to travel.  I set my sights on my next trip only three days after returning to the United States.  I decide to visit the birthplace of most European cities, Rome, Italy.  Rome has become a city that I will never truly leave.  I went to Rome during the summer of 2013 and studied for four weeks at the American University of Rome.  I took an anthropology class - what better way to see the historic city of Rome than with a professor who knows about every piece of history?  Through my class I was able to tour the city and explore ruins and sights that I would have never seen on my own, and I would have never discovered so much about Rome and its past without this class.  I was able to become immersed in two time periods, the Roman Empire and the Renaissance.  There was a stark contrast between the city’s ancient rulers, the roman emperor, and the early modern rulers, the popes.  These contrasts between the time periods became blurred when it came to art and architecture the city, which mixed old gods with the new and reformed the great buildings of the past into structures of the present. Rome became an ever evolving city of beauty and grandeur, behind each ruin was a story and behind each masterpiece was a ruin.  

Combing through museums, ruins, fountains, historical sights, piazzas, and churches, I was able to see the underbelly of Rome and discover the hidden mysteries of this ancient city. Places and sights I had only read about were suddenly standing in front of me as tall and real as the day.  Icons such as the Colosseum, Trevi Fountain, and Spanish Steps were suddenly right in front of me.  I went beyond the usual tourist spots to find my most beautiful artwork in obscure galleries and tiny alleyway churches.  Rome is a city that provides constant entertainment, I could have walked down the same street one thousand times and still have found something new to discover and gawk at. 

Rome can be a leaping off point to other cities around Italy.  While in Rome, I was able to take trips every weekend to a new city: Mt. Vesuvius, Pompeii, Siena, Florence, Venice, Capri, and Sorrento.  I used the most of my free time so that I would be able to explore a new city within the walls of a fascinating country.  Italy is a country that is so diverse because it was, at one point, broken up into many city states each wanting to outshine the others through art and prestige.  Now these city states are cities with their own diverse history and culture to offer to visitors.  Places that almost ooze with the unimaginable, paintings so real that the images seem to almost move with their own hidden life and sculpture so alive it is like watching a play as you stare at their life like movements frozen in time. 

The people of Rome are the most helpful and gracious; most importantly they were always willing to give directions.  The city’s population is only paled by the amazing friends I made while on this program.  These people let me drag them around the city from one museum to another with pit stops at tiny shops and restaurants, and we did it all while sweating more than I imagined to be humanly possible, but laughing the entire way.  These are people who are truly wonderful and I am thankful to have met so many people who share the same passions as me.

While I have long since left Rome, there is not a day that goes by where I don’t remember walking through the teeming streets of Rome looking for adventure and beauty at every turn.  Rome is the eternal city with moments of time pressed between its pages I am glad to be a part of the city’s memory.

Returning to Europe ~Anthony Manzi, Study Abroad Peer Advisor, Rome, Italy, Spring 2010 and Florence, Italy, Spring 2011

 As a first generation Italian American with family scattered throughout Italy, Switzerland, and Spain, I figured I would one day visit Europe, but never thought I would get the chance to study and live in Italy for a full year! Ciao, mi chiamo Anthony Manzi. I’m a senior at CUNY College of Staten Island, and I studied abroad in Rome during the spring semester of 2010 and in Florence during the spring semester of 2011. After living on Staten Island for a number of years you get the feeling of being cooped up in a small place with a whole world out there to explore.

The first time I ever stepped foot in Europe was Fiumicino International Airport right outside of Rome. I will never forget my first day living in a different country, taking on the great adventure that is the Eternal City, meeting my five other roommates, making new friends and meeting locals of Trastevere and Monteverdi (neighborhoods of Rome).

After living in New York and frequenting Manhattan on almost a weekly basis you already have a sure feeling of how living in a major city would be – skyscrapers, fast living, lots of people, sightseeing, etc. – until you arrive in an ancient city such as Rome, with world famous structures and sculptures such as il Colosseo, la Fontana di Trevi, la Scala di Spagna, la Piazza del Popolo, and of course the center of the Roman Catholic Church, la Citta del Vaticano. These historic structures, a couple of them even considered some of the greatest sites in the world, are places you don’t get to see very often in your life, let alone live by them!

While living in a travel hub, with a schedule of 12 credits and decently difficult classes, I had a good amount of schoolwork to do, but also some time to travel throughout the great continent of Europe. I’ve visited eclectic cities from Madrid, Spain to Paris, France to Sofia, Bulgaria to Athens, Greece to Dublin, Ireland, and many more, including the Islands of Malta and the Canaries. Each country, but more specifically each city, has its own unique culture and lifestyle to it, which I’d rather you find out on your own and not spoil it for you!

Since the beginning of my initial study abroad experience in Rome of Spring 2010, I believe that the travel bug has bitten off more than it can chew when it comes to my expeditions- gazing over the snow covered Swiss Alps, sailing on a private yacht around the azure Mediterranean islands of Malta, island hopping right through the scenic Greek Isles, wine tasting throughout the province of Tuscany, even enjoying a cold one at the Guinness Storehouse in Dublin. Travelling has become a big part of my life, so much that I have recently acquired a job for the fall semester of 2012, with one of Europe’s best student travel companies, Bus2Alps. Not Only will I be able to live in Europe once again, I will be travelling every weekend and work as a tour guide - not to mention getting paid to do what I love! So, for any of you students that are thinking of studying abroad in Europe, hopefully, I will see you on the other side. Arrivederci e Buona Fortuna a tutti!

La Dolce Vita ~Cathrine Bernardo, Study Abroad Peer Advisor, Florence, Italy, Winter 2011

During one summer when I was six, my family and I traveled back to my home country. I remember being on the plane and loving every minute of it. I specifically remember asking my grandma if we had explored all of the Philippines. She said to me, “Oh my, no! There is too much!” I argued that I do not want to leave without seeing it all and that I will keep coming back until I do! My grandma calmly smiled at me and told me there were so many other places and countries to see and visit. And traveled I did.

I was fortunate enough to travel all over the United States because of where my cheerleading competitions, my brother’s basketball games and tournaments, and my sister’s dance competitions were located. My family and I also took annual family vacations. But taking on the United States (and parts of Canada) was not enough for me. I wanted to go to a place where it could not be reached by driving a car, and would take hours to get to by airplane.

At 21 years old, I finally embarked on my journey to Florence, Italy. This time around, no family or posse of cheerleaders; just me. While most people would tremble at the thought of traveling into another country, let alone flying solo, I found it exciting and adventurous! Moments before I boarded, my anticipation had built up so much, it became hard to handle. I squealed as I entered the walkway to the airplane, and I am sure all the other passengers thought I was just a bit crazy. I could care less; all I kept thinking was, “I’M GOING TO BE LIVING IN ITALY FOR A MONTH!”

(Fast forward from my flight to landing in Rome) Taking my first steps in this Italian airport in Rome felt like I had just been hit by a whirlwind. Not only did my lack of sleep start to set in, but I remember feeling like I was in a trance. People were moving so fast all around me and talking in different languages. That’s when the panic started to set in. “What do I do? Where do I go? Where are my bags? Oh my gosh, I’m not fluent in this language!” Those where the exact thoughts that crossed my head.

I stayed still for what felt like a couple of minutes, but in reality, it must have been just seconds. My heart felt like it was beating so hard from my chest that anyone who was close enough could hear it. Luckily for me, a little girl (who must have been no older than 6-7 years old) tapped my hand and politely said my bags are on the floor. For some reason, this small, nice gesture made my panic disappear, and I was back to my calm, cool, and collected self. I said thank you very much to her, and she replied, “Prego.” That made me so excited because she was my first encounter of a real Italian!

Her parents came over from behind and smiled at me. Francesca’s dad, Giuseppe, knew right away that this was my first time in their homeland. They offered to help direct me where I needed to go and what I needed to do before taking car service to meet up with my friend. It must have been fate that brought them to me, that I dropped my belongings, that little Francesca had stopped to talk to me; without them, I believe a whole different sequence of events would have occurred, which definitely would not have had the same outcomes. Before we parted ways, Giuseppe gave me a few tips and advice, but what really stuck out to me was that he told me to make sure I live “la dolce vita,” the true Italian way.

It was during my morning class that Stefania, my Italian Language I teacher, brought up the phrase “la dolce vita,” which translates to the sweet life. To live “la dolce vita” means to live in love and happiness. And supposedly, this is why Italians do everything in a calm and relaxing manner. Stefania also said that this way of life makes sense because constantly running around and being stressed is no good; there is no time to appreciate everyone and everything all around you. Italians like to concentrate on the present, but do reflect on the past, and always hope for the best in the future. 

While I kept this in the back of mind, for the first week and couple of days after, I did not live the Italian way in the truest sense. Even though I believed I did by traveling to different places and being exposed to so many new things and experiences. During the middle of my second week in Florence, I decided to go running on my own without any of my roommates (Not only where they getting tired of me forcing them to go, but they also started claiming there was not enough time for it). I am grateful, though, that I decided to go on my own because it was during this particular run in which I discovered what living “la dolce vita” meant for me.

My run started with the regular route I’ve taken previously. For some reason, I felt like I was discovering something new and seeing something different with each stride. Then I started noticing different streets and pathways that I could swear on my life were never there. I was feeling adventurous and curious to see where all these new paths would take me. Now, when I explain what I found to others, it will not sound like any groundbreaking discoveries, but to me they seemed that way. I felt overcome with the same joy, excitement, and sense of magic, most likely similar to how Harry Potter felt when witnessed for the first time the brick walls rearranging themselves to a doorway to Diagon Alley. I got so caught up in my “discoveries” that not only did I lose track of how many miles I was running, but also lost track of how long I was running for. That’s what prompted me to look up and notice that the sun was starting to set.

I went home exhausted, but refreshed at the same time. I also felt accomplished because I ran for the longest amount of miles and time I ever had, despite the fact that I did not know the exact numbers or time. I remember thinking to myself that not once did I look at my watch or timer! This sort of “high” that I felt, appreciation for what had happened, feelings of satisfaction, feelings of accomplishment, feelings of being blessed by Florence’s beauty... all of this combined- that was my sweet life and I had experienced it! So this is what it means to truly live in the present.

Now, some of you may still be confused about what I mean or what it means, this “la dolce vita” way. That’s perfectly okay; it is something that you will have to find all on your own. You can see, hear, read, and study all about it, but until you discover and experience for yourself, you won’t ever genuinely understand it.

My advice? The best I can offer is to tell you to study abroad. Let go of the fear of what might happen and all the things that can go wrong, and just leave! (Mind you, there are precautions that must be taken in order to ensure your safety.) You do not necessarily have to be Italian to live this way; it can be adopted by anyone! You don’t even need to go to Florence. Maybe you don’t even need to go to Italy (although I highly recommend it if you want to see this lifestyle being lived firsthand). To live “la dolce vita” is to embark on a journey of self-discovery in finding and living in happiness, peace, and love. However, in order to start, you have to start somewhere, other than where you are right now. Buona Fortuna!

Taking the Plunge in Florence ~Zachary Schwartz, Florence, Italy

Hello Readers,

My name is Zachary Schwartz, and I am a sophomore English major at the College of Staten Island. I am currently studying abroad in Florence, Italy for this current Spring Semester until May 13^th. My goal in writing this blog for CSI is to hopefully convince one reader to take the plunge, grab the opportunity and consider taking up CSI on its wonderful offer to study abroad. You will not be disappointed.

Study abroad has always been a goal of mine. Just the idea of being hundreds of miles away from my home in a distant country sounded appealing to me. Not in any way because I hate living with my family but because the freedom I would have would be very gratifying.  I also recognized study abroad as a crucial growing experience in my young life. I feel it is very important to learn about other cultures and not just focus on your own at home. My feelings before leaving for Florence were emotions of anxiety, excitement and restlessness. I KNEW I was going to have a great time when I saw the seat next to me on my seven hour flight was unoccupied. I couldn't wait to start this new adventure of my life. Nothing sounded (and sounds) better to me than an espresso and pastry in the morning for breakfast and wine and pasta for dinner.

I arrived in Florence on January 18^th. I was in Florence a week before school started so I decided to do all of the “tourist-y” things, so I could get them out of the way. The things to do in Florence seem almost endless. There are countless museums which hold the greatest art work in the world (one of which holds the Michelangelo masterpiece David - you can’t take a picture of it, but I’m determined to do so), as well as hundred year old ancient churches that you wish the United States had to offer. The most incredible sight of Florence is the one thing you cannot avoid even if you tried. Florence’s Duomo is a 600 year relic sitting right smack in the middle of the city. If you feel man (or woman) enough, you can climb up 426 steps all the way to the top and bear witness to the beautiful scenery Florence has to offer.

I’m only a month into my experience and so far it’s been more than great. Classes are interesting, food has been great and the people are awesome. I can’t wait to see what else Florence, Italy and Europe have to offer me. I’ll make sure to give you the most information that I can. Until next time…

                                                                                                                             Zachary

Journey to Tuscania ~Francine Bianco, Tuscania, Italy

New York, or even more closely, Staten Island, can be a bubble. An all-encompassing bubble—one you don’t think to get out of after a while. Why burst a bubble? The context of the phrase is never anything good; at least from the surface. Everyone I love and adore is within a 45 minute driving range (and that’s even a stretch of time, so I can include my South Jersey brother and family in this mix). You can picture the look of panic and pride on my Italian-American mother’s face when I told her that I confirmed going to study abroad in Tuscania, Italy with a $2,000 bank check to secure my housing. Until that point she thought it was just chatter, the kind you do on bar stools, of dreams you’ll never actually step off to try and attain. But I had to. Everything inside me screamed to venture off for adventure, to seek new landscapes and in turn shape new eyes; momentarily step off the rock I’ve come to call home and back in time to my family’s ancestral roots—Italia.

Now, let me insert some humorous anecdote here, so you can fully grasp the naïveté I possess when it comes to traveling. I like to call my account of this transcontinental temporary move: Traveling 101. Picture, if you will:

24 years old (well, almost 24), and getting ready to board my first plane ride alone. I was actually quite surprised at how friendly the employees at JFK Airport were. I had imagined them to resemble guards, the kind who don’t speak and barely smile. To my pleasant surprise they looked like they enjoyed their job, which somehow made my stomach relax. Before this, I had pictured an assembly line of people handling my luggage and poking and prodding at me, lint falling from my pockets as important documents get left behind, because there’s no time, “We must keep going!” they’d tell me. None of this occurred, and it was almost as if they could smell my fear, my anticipation. I couldn’t have been handled more with care than I was.

The last time I flew I was 14, going to see Celine Dion in Las Vegas. I’d followed the suit of my sister-in-law and brother, and don’t remember much. I do remember that I kept my head down, praying God would hold me in the palm of his hand as we took off, listening to the instruction from Tomasina to chew gum, so my ears wouldn’t pop as much.

I smiled at that memory, as I placed spearmint chewing gum in my mouth, praying again for God to keep me in the palm of his hand. No one sat next to me on the flight to Ireland, and the only faces I had seen on that seven-hour flight more than twice were the flight attendants. They looked exactly as I had imagined—which almost surprised me. I wondered if it were a job requirement for them to wear as much make-up as they did. I also wondered if they had someone show them how to do it when they were initially hired—they all had an impeccable shade of pink on their cheeks, and their brunette and auburn hair wouldn’t have moved if a window had suddenly opened.

I moved robotically off the plane, wondering if everyone had a handbook of How-To-Travel that I would receive at any moment. Until then, I would follow the others into the next security check.

Ireland. I still haven't seen anything of Ireland other than the lights of Dublin in the middle of the night, but I found solace in the smiling faces of their security. My first transcontinental feeling of "home" was found in the cheeky employees at Dublin airport who helped me to laugh. They also helped me to understand that people from other countries, other cultures, well - they laugh, too.

Shock was an underestimated factor when new flight attendants walked toward gate 103 and took off their raincoats. They were blonde. It was at this moment I felt alone for the first time, wanting to share my foolishness and humor with someone. Wait, the flight attendants you started with do not stay with you the entire time, like chaperones on a class trip?! No, Francine… And I suppose that makes sense, they’re just jobs, like my own at home—there are no international babysitters to make my transition any easier. This was unsettling as I settled into my window seat on the plane. The teenaged looking Irish boy who sat to my right said he was going to Rome for a “Holiday,” and I thought what holiday is it that I am unaware of? Then I remembered hearing in the New York terminal from a couple of chatty Connecticut kids, of the differences in words, and that holiday could mean our “vacation.” I don’t think I acknowledged what he said until this realization, almost two minutes later, to which the moment had passed and he gave me a confused look—my first awkward language barrier encounter. Sleep would help.

Finally landing and walking off the plane (this flight was the kind where the stairs to the plane unfold and you walk right off onto the ground) I felt like royalty, until I had to stand next to a man on a crowded shuttle bus who kept his arm pit right in my face. Everyone scattered after getting their passport checked and I hadn’t felt more alone in a long time. I was on my own. This was it. I was so focused on the actual getting here that I hadn’t thought much about what came after. And the fact that most people did not speak ANY English was immobilizing me as I stood in the middle of the floor just beyond getting passed the passport man. I had to exchange money, and when she handed me back almost $200 less than I had given her, my hands were shaking as I wondered where the hell the 1 Euro bills were and if I could have some. She handed me coins but told me she couldn’t change my coins to Euros because they were the government’s property (I still have so much change with me, but I give my nickels and pennies away to my new Italian friends, as souvenirs- they LOVE it). I didn’t really understand anything that was happening, but panic was rising as people began to form a line behind me, mixed with this need to find out if I was getting ripped off.

I wasn’t, as I later found out from the cab driver who helped me find my bags and get me to my hotel for the night in Fregene, a small town right outside of Rome, vicino il mare (translation: near the beach). At least he said near the beach, when actually I was right ON the beach. I put my bags down, rejoiced that there was wi-fi for the first time since I had left my house, and took a shower. After eating some oreos from the day before to hold me over since I couldn’t even think about dealing with trying to find food in another language– I took my sneakers off and walked the few hundred feet to the shore, as the sun was setting.

My stomach finally settled and I thought of God. Not sure exactly how this will unfold once I get settled in Tuscania, but, staring out on the sea on the desolate beach near Rome, I feel like I'm going to be better thank okay.