First week in Siena

I woke up this morning wanting to write, but I wasn’t sure how to start. Lunch gave me an idea.

I eat lunch on the weekends with my Italian host grandma. Yes, I have an Italian grandma now. Carla, a 61 year old widow, has two grandsons ages 4 and 7 (she calls them her two pests--due peste); they come over a couple times a week and I must admit seem to fit their description. During their visit yesterday, I won them over a bit (they usually just ignore me) by drawing their favorite animals and writing the animals’ names in English. I managed a bat, tiger, and dolphin. In Siena, every family is part of a contrada, a neighborhood Palio team (will have to save the description for another time--it’s a huge deal here). The boys loved the dolphin because it’s one of the contrada mascots.

Usually, it’s just Carla and I. We eat in an odd mix of silence and language confusion. Before meals she calls to me, “Leann, mi amore, mangiamo” (Leann, my love, we eat). I grab my new meal essentials, a dictionary and phrasebook, and sit. One of the girls here recently said, in a jokingly deep comment, “my life is a constant translation.” Although it was a joke, there’s some truth to that statement.

I came to Italy without any previous Italian experience. I wanted to practice a bit on my own during winter break, but I’d pick it up quickly in Italy. While that’s probably true, it is amazingly difficult to live with someone when you don’t speak their language. Most of the girls in my program (11 in all) have taken classes in college or high school. With only a week now of Italian, it’s still hard to communicate. I’m amazed, though, by the amount of information I’ve had to learn in the first week. I think my school crammed about one year of high school Italian into one week of language intensive. After 5 days of class I now have down my numbers, clothing vocab, basic food, table setting, and drink vocab, regular present tense verb conjugation for the 3 types, the greeting vocab, jobs, rooms, colors, months, days of the week, and two types of past tense conjugations! I think the hardest thing so far is matching singular and plural nouns with adjectives. Wow, I wish I could add an “s” to my nouns every once in a while.

The language will come. For now my time in my new home is a lesson in life as a foreigner. I can’t say just whatever comes to mind, and it’s impossible to say anything at more than a very basic level. Carla and I communicate only the essentials (today the most important was, “do you have nail polish remover?”). Luckily during the weekdays I have a release with the other students.

The other girls outside of The Siena School

Where was I? Lunch…Lunches and dinners here are at the least 3 course affairs. We start with either a soup or pasta dish, and then move onto the next course of usually meat and salad. Finally, we have fruit, coffee or green tea, and some kind of cookie. Today was one of those “my life is a translation” days. After some fantastic ravioli, Carla brought out two whole sea basses. Now, I know that in many countries, fish is served whole--head, eyes, tail, and all. It’s just comically impressive when someone puts a whole fish on your plate during a leisurely weekend lunch in your sweats. Even after many backpacking meals of pan-fried trout, I still had to meekly ask Carla to help me figure out how to eat it. The meal was an excellent time for body-part vocab practice. I heard “take care for the bones” in Italian about 20 times.

My sunny room in Carla's apartment

On Friday, my school group went on a day trip to a nearby town, San Gimignato. It’s known for its surviving 14 towers (once 60). I think I’ve become known in my group as the travel book girl. Its not exactly a ‘cool’ identity, but I do know what to do for free. Our trip planner, a girl who recently graduated from college and returned to Siena because she liked the school so much, said she considered bringing a tour book but knew I’d have it covered. Equipped with my Eyewitness and Rick Steve’s books, I suggested we all head up to a park at the highest point of the town--che bella panorama! It still hasn’t settled in that I’m living in Tuscany. It’s so wild to stand at the top of a mideival fortress and see the vinyards in the distance and a huge parking lot or supermarket in the foreground. A modern/ancient divide has never so confronted me.

A little less profound, the most important lesson from that day was - if you see a sign for gelato caldo, be cautious. I’ve been in Italy for a week and a half and this was only my second scoop. I went for chocolate and panna cotta flavored. I didn’t notice that the panna cotta was warm gelato….essentially some mix of whipped crème, butter, and sugar; they’re all good ingredients, but not nearly the pleasure of a bowl of real gelato.

The Central Piazza in San Gimignato
Me in front of a few of the 14 San Gimignano ancient skyscrapers

Lastly, I have to write about my first Friday night at an all Italian discotheque--Vanigla…an experience to say the least. I’ve written so long, I’ll spare you some details, except to say that it was one of those times I was glad to be in a good mood and actually happy to be an American (one of the few times lately--we aren’t everyone’s favorites). It felt like a strange mix of high class New York club, middle school dance, and the Euro club I’ve seen in movies like Bend it Like Beckham. No one seemed to be having much fun….especially the Italian women. I’ve met some very warm, welcoming Italians, but as a general observation, young Italian women really aren’t fans of American girls. And especially those of us who dance goofily and smile too much. The DJ (named DJ Inglese) kept saying in English, “Facebook Party Siena Number One.” I guess it was a facebook meet-up night. My favorite part of the evening was when everyone sang a Red Hot Chili Peppers song at the top of their lungs; without the apparently required tiny tight black dress on, I felt that this activity was actually something I did well. Most of the girls with me on this strange adventure didn’t have a good time…as our Italian professor would say in a thick accent, it was “superrr-sketchy.” I did because I like to dance, however awkward the setting. It occurred to me, though, that there’s something strange with the Italian relationship to American culture. I guess I’ve read about it, but haven’t experienced it firsthand. The young partiers seem to love all things American in terms of music and pop culture, but maintain a healthy disdain for Americans….especially us less than posh students.

Today I’m taking a little break from the busy Italian life….some time to write for you, watch movies, and paint my nails. I know the culture shock is good for me, but I love my little break today. And, Tuscany is gorgeous, but not ideal in the rain.