Student Journals: AIFS in Rome, Italy

Libby Segal
University of Rhode Island
Richmond in Rome, Italy

Turkey Day in a Country Where There Is No Turkey Day

Libby Segal Word of the Post: Grazie (Thank you)

It seems the word of the post is only necessary since yesterday was Thanksgiving. This is the second year that I have been away for Thanksgiving. The last time I was away for Thanksgiving was my senior year of high school (which seems so long ago now) when I was playing at the National Field Hockey Festival in Florida – where Thanksgiving is of course celebrated. This year spending Thanksgiving away from home was different, because I am in a country where they barely know what Thanksgiving is.

Heck, they didn't even know who was going to cook our turkey for us, because no one here knows how, and last night at the dinner, they didn't know how to cut it either! Oh well – it still tasted wonderful. All the food tasted wonderful actually, and if I want to use the word wonderful one more time, I could say that the whole night was wonderful.

We were treated to dinner on the roof of the Mariot hotel on Via Veneto – one of the most prestigious hotels and roads in all of Rome. One girl’s parents said, "That is the street I had my honey moon on." The roof overlooked all of Rome, and dinner was held in the banquet hall leading out to the roof so that we could take a peak.

Italian desserts And of course there was the wonderful food that I already mentioned. Think Italian meets American. There was a whole arrangement of appetizers that ranged from spinach puffs to pizza. And then there were three main courses: Stuffed turkey with cranberry (so at least we would feel a little bit at home), Pasta with red sauce and cheese (because what is an Italian meal without pasta), and a PHENOMENAL entree of pumpkin risotto (at least we had pumpkin!). But the meal didn't stop there – we were also treated to taste red wine, white wine and champagne. And following the entree, the center table was filled with dessert cakes including a fruit one, a coffeeish cake that you could drizzle your own chocolate sauce on, and a cream puff cake. It was one heck of a meal. Sure, I missed the green bean casserole topped with onion chips, the never-ending bowl of stuffing, and the pumpkin pie from home – but I can't complain about the food set on our table. If Thanksgiving were a Roman Holiday, this was surely what a traditional Thanksgiving dinner would be.

In honor of Thanksgiving, I'll share some things that I am thankful for, starting with the most important (leaving out the clear obvious of family and friends) leading to the least:

In less than 55 days, we will have a new president.
The exchange rate falling for the Euro and the Dollar
My flat soled shoes that never get stuck in the cobblestone like my apartmentmate’s.
Gypsies who sell umbrellas when it’s pouring rain on you.
Wine at Thanksgiving dinners.
The International Food Store (for peanut butter of course).
1.5 Liter bottles of water.
My awesome apartment in Italy.
Drying racks for clothes (there are no dryers here) because when it pours rain like today, you have plenty of dry space for your wet clothes.
Bartenders who turn the top of my cappuccino into a heart design.

Happy Thanksgiving

Feels like Home to Me

A year ago, I could have never imagined being in the spot I am sitting in at this very moment—The Bulldog Café in Rome, Italy. A year ago, I was playing field hockey for the University of Rhode Island. In April, my team at URI was cut due to budget issues within the state and the school itself. After the cut, I spent the following month and a half debating what to do the following school year. I could either stay at URI and be miserable over field hockey, transfer schools and play for a different mascot, or go abroad. I chose to go abroad.

In going abroad I was given the opportunity of a lifetime—I received the chance to play field hockey with international players. After I was accepted into the Italy program, I emailed the activities coordinator, and she worked to find me a team to play on while I studied here in the fall. At the beginning of October, I experienced my first practice with the Butterfly Field Hockey Club.

Stepping back onto the field felt amazing. I had been playing field hockey all summer in random pick-up leagues, and I had been coaching camps all summer, and I was ready to get back into the swing of things.

When I step onto a field hockey field, I am immediately content with every single part of my life. When the lights are on for night practice or night matches, I begin to bubble. When the pitch is soft and quick, a smile remains on my face. And when the lines are perfect, I get even a little bit more tingly inside.

When I stepped onto this field on October 10, I flashed back to all the times I have stepped onto a field hockey field. The feeling that cast upon me was similar to the one that a child would feel after seeing his or her parents for the first time in months. I took in all my surroundings. This field felt like a masterpiece in comparison to the URI field hockey field.

In playing with the Butterfly field hockey team, I had the opportunity to meet people from not only Italy, but also other countries. Our coach was from Argentina, one of the girls was from Kenya and had played on the national team there for a little bit of time, another girl was from Spain, and another from Holland. Most did not speak English, which made it difficult both on the field and off the field to correspond, but it made it that much more worth it as I had the chance to learn more Italian while not going to class. Some of the girls were 25 and some of the girls were much younger than me (I am just 20).

The experience that I had with this team was one-of-a-kind as I got to meet new people, learn the language more, and play a different kind of hockey. Richmond didn’t give up on letting me have this opportunity, and it was every bit worth taking advantage of. It not only gave me all these eye-opening opportunities, but it helped make the Rome experience feel more like home—it feels like home being here.

Fat Kids Love Cake - Italians Love Looks - So Darn Magro

Words of the post:
Stai facendo buono. (You are doing well.)
Magro (Skinny)

The first word of the post is actually a phrase. The bike at the gym told me that I was doing well in Italian when I was riding it yesterday, and I thought it was funny…ha.

I would like to take the time to list why Italians are so darn skinny.

They walk everywhere. I don’t care that all they eat are carbs. They are simply just burning off every meal they eat ten minutes later when they walk home or to their next destination.
In the olden days, Italians had public bathrooms. When I say public bathrooms, I mean public bathrooms. They were out in the open, and people would use the bathroom right next to each other without stalls or doors, just open space. I have hypothesized that Italians wanted to impress one another, and they never wanted to be the “fat kid” going to the bathroom, so instead they tried hard to remain skinny so as not to be embarrassed using the bathroom.
The dancing that I experienced in Florence was quite the workout. If Italians do this a lot, it def contributes to their skinniness.
Public nudity still remains here. Unlike the ancient days, there are no public bathrooms, but the Italians still don’t mind being naked in public—like the gym bathrooms or changing rooms. They don’t mind just taking off their clothes, and why should they—they are ridiculously skinny.
Unlike the cheese at home, the cheese here isn’t processed, so it isn’t as bad for you. Therefore, even though they eat much more cheese than us—it doesn’t affect them the way it does us in the states.
Everyonehere drinks coffee, which acts a metabolism stimulant; therefore, everyone is speeding up their metabolism every day. Fast metabolism = smaller body.
It is hot here. But Italians don’t recognize heat because they still wear winter coats and scarves every day. I wear shorts and polos—and I still sweat. This means that when they are walking everywhere that they go, they must be swimming in pools under those layers that they are wearing unless they have cut air holes in all their clothes.
They eat three meals a day, not five, not two, three, and they eat nothing else. There is no snacking for them throughout the day. A meal is a meal, and the hours between that are their hours to do other things. Snacks = an American thing, so between lunch and dinner, places are clearly making all their money off of Americans and other tourists.
Their clothes in the stores come in mini sizes. One store here only carries smalls. I haven’t figured out if all the clothes in the store are actually small or if they are just all labeled small, but still they care about their size clearly. Their larges are American mediums sometimes even American smalls, and their jeans are clearly made for tall slim Europeans. Their size 6 is an American size 2, so you know what that says their size 0 is—American Kid. Skinny jeans take on a new meaning here.
Fast food here doesn’t exist. If you get a panino, it’s bread, ham and mozz—or mozz and tomatos. It isn’t ham, mozz, tomato, lettuce, mayo, oil, pickle, ect. What you see is what you get. Oh—and it still tastes good.

Turkey day in a country where there is no turkey day

Word of the post: Grazie (Thank you)

We were treated to dinner on the roof of the Mariot hotel on Via Veneto – one of the most prestigious hotels and roads in all of Rome. One girls parents said "That is the street I had my honey moon on." The roof overlooked all of Rome, and dinner was held in the banquet hall leading out to the roof so that we could take a peak.

And of course there was the wonderful food that I already mentioned. Think Italian meets American. There was a whole arrangement of appetizers that ranged from spinach puffs to pizza. And then there were three main courses: Stuffed turkey with cranberry (so at least we would feel a little bit at home), Pasta with red sauce and cheese (because what is an Italian meal without pasta), and a PHENOMENAL entree of pumpkin risotto (at least we had pumpkin!). But the meal didn't stop there – we were also treated to taste red wine, white wine and champagne. And following the entree, the center table was filled with dessert cakes including a fruit one, a coffeeish cake that you could drizzle your own chocolate sauce on, and a cream puff cake. It was one heck of a meal. Sure, I missed the green bean casserol topped with onion chips, the neverending bowl of stuffing, and the pumpkin pie from home – but I can't complain about the food set on our table. If Thanksgiving were a Roman Holiday – this was surely what a traditional Thanksgiving dinner would be.

In honor of Thanksgiving, I'll share some things that I am thankful for, starting with the most important (leaving out the clear obvious of family and friends) leading to the least:

1. In less than 55 days, we will have a new president.
2. The exchange rate falling for the Euro and the Dollar
3. My flat soled shoes that never get stuck in the cobblestone like my apartmentmates.
4. Gypsies who sell umbrellas when its pouring rain on you.
5. Wine at Thanksgiving dinners.
6. The International Food Store (for peanutbutter of course)
7. 1.5 Liter bottles of water
8. My awesome apartment in Italy
9. Drying racks for clothes (there are no dryers here) because when it pours rain like today, you have plenty of dry space for your wet clothes.
10. Bartenders who turn the top of my cappuccino into a heart design.

Happy Thanksgiving

Richmond in Rome

Summer 2012
Fall 2012 and Spring 2013
Fall 2011 and Spring 2012 - Fall semester is full. Spring semester is full.

Student Journals: AIFS in Rome, Italy

Libby Segal University of Rhode Island Richmond in Rome, Italy

Libby Segal
University of Rhode Island
Richmond in Rome, Italy