I like this quote...

"There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief... and unspeakable love." -- Washington Irving

Fun facts about Canada according to Italians

First of all, lucky readers, there are three new posts today, because of my lack of computer time this week, I wrote these but never got on the ‘net to post them, so I’m posting them all now.

A list of some of the fun things I learned about Canada, or at least what Italians and other Europeans think about Canadians:

-Canadians all speak French. The fact that I don’t, makes me a freak
-We drive on the other side of the street, just like in Britain
-We all know each other, apparently when I say I’m from Canada they all want to tell me they have a friend, cousin, aunt, collegue, whatever living there. When I say I’m from Vancouver and they know someone in Vancouver, they tell me there name and assume I know them. If I don’t, they try to describe them to me to see if I may have run into the “23-year old blonde girl with blue eyes and goes by the name Laura” Oh yeah, her.
-It’s cold and snows a lot. I tell them that I live in an igloo sometimes, that doesn’t always fly though
-We have no fashion sense and wear big puffy parkas that I’m not going to need here, they say it gets cold in the winter here, but not “Canada cold”
-We have funny accents, but apparently I don’t have it (says the girl from California… we started talking and she says “You’re from Canada, funny, I don’t hear the accent”)
-Those that have been to Canada like to ask if I miss Tim Hortons
-We’re all apparently very nice and alike, three people told me that I reminded them of the people they knew in Canada because we were all very nice

That’s all for now, but I’ll try to add more as I think of them. Hope everyone is doing good and I'm enjoying reading the comments :) (hint hint... leave some)

Mi Chiamo Jenny

Apparently in Italy, I’m Jenny, much to my disdain. Sigh. After all my years of fighting it just a little over two weeks in I’ve given up the good fight.

Here’s what I’ve gathered. Italian names almost always end with a vowel. Females have the “a” or “e” sound (i.e. Elena or Sonia) and males have the “o” sound generally (i.e. Antonio or Gino). Having no vowel sound often confuses the Italian speaker, especially when I give them such a short name like Jen. After introducing myself as Jen countless times I tried to change it to Jennifer, but still, I refer to myself as Jen (and no, I have not developed a habit of referring to myself in the third person, although wouldn’t that be fun?). Anyways, if I introduce myself as Jen I find that most people automatically add the “ie” sound by themselves and call me Jenny. Therefore I’ve given up, since it’s ingrained in their language and something that I just can’t be bothered to fight. I know, me giving up on an argument… I’m as shocked as you are.

I do take pleasure in this one thought, here I am one of the only Jen’s among the many Valentina’s, Elisa’s and Alessandro’s, which in my short time I have found to be some of the most common names here.

But don’t be mistaken, this doesn’t mean I’m giving everyone else the freedom to call me Jenny, if you don’t speak Italian and call me Jenny, the usual consequences apply ;)

I have no special talents. I am only passionately curious.

I’m now the proud owner (can you own this?) of a job in Italy. Well, maybe two, but that’s still in the air as of right now. I’m now employed by a school here in town, it’s not set hours, which as some people know, drives me crazy (I like the idea of having a set schedule, the thing that drove me insane while I worked at the liquor store was not the drunk crazy people but the lack of set hours… and here I am again), but it’s work, so whose complaining? (Me, evidently)

It is now very important that I get learning how to drive a stick shift soon and get some sort of sense of direction. Luckily the school has a car for me to use to get to places where I have to teach, so that’s a bonus right there. But like I said, lets try to work on not crashing it while I try to teach myself the art of shifting.

I went for my training today and attempted to take the bus back home. I say attempted because the bus system here in Schio is almost non-existent, especially up to the house. And for someone who doesn’t speak the language, I’m generally leaving it all up to fate and a bus driver. So, I got on the bus and rode up the mountain, all went well until he dropped me off halfway and said something that sounded like I had to get off or else head back to the city. Sheesh. I was only halfway home, so I made the trek up the (sometimes steep) hill, good times in not suitable for walking shoes.

Last weekend was filled with fun times as Frank visited from Canada and we went out to dinner on Friday night. Here’s the thing, if you want to confuse an Italian, or at least my Italian family, ask to bring half your meal home. It apparently has never happened. Saturday night we had a ‘feast’ at the house, where a lot of meat is roasted on open fire (real wood, not coal, I’m told makes the difference) and a lot of vino is had. It was fun and again, for my family back home keeping count, I ate the sausage and polenta and enjoyed both (seriously, polenta is actually good when it’s not mush).

Sunday marked the beginning of hunting season, a day comparable to Christmas for grown men. As of Sunday little birds hid for their lives as shots were blasted in their direction. To those who may have thought that I was eating birds already (and not duck), nope, but I’m sure the day will be coming soon, although so far my uncle and cousin have only caught one bird apiece, I’m told business should pick up soon.

As for my brain, is constantly drawing comparisons and taking note of different things (damn you anthropological training! but yeah, it’s finally useful… for this blog? can I get paid for that or make some kind of career?), a few things I’ve come to learn (none of which is to do with the Italian language, sadly. Although I do know how to give one word directions to bus drivers and ask for things from convenience store clerks):

-Coca-cola light tastes different from diet coke, dare I say better? It tastes more like real coke, maybe coke zero (although they also have coke zero, I should give that a shot)

-I understand the phrase “dropping like flies” now. As I write there are two flies buzzing around my head, when I come back to my room later on tonight their carcasses will be somewhere on the floor, because they literally do drop dead on the spot. They’ll join the many other flies before me. Trust.

-Whenever you buy the wrong bus or train ticket or forget to validate it (forget? more like I don’t know these things) all you have to do is tell whomever is getting mad at you is “I don’t speak Italian” and they take pity on your pathetic self and let you go. I think I throw in a sad eye look too, I’m not sure, my face is apparently really expressive says the guy that hired me. I do know that this is a technique I will continue to employ even after I learn the language.

-I now have my own doctor in town (you must get one when you get medical… hooray for medical!) and I’m not too sure about this yet, but by reading the brochure given to me by the hospital, written in Italian, I think the name of the clinic is called “Gimmy Cricket.” This pleases me (although don’t be mistaken, my doctors name is unfortunately not Gimmy Cricket).

-I saw a donkey Sunday when we were in another province. It was metal and it was on someone’s front lawn, so goal not quite attained yet. I know this doesn’t count but I will continue my search, if I don’t find a real one soon, I’ll go back there (yeah right, like I can find that place again) and take a picture of it, hopefully they decorate it for Christmas, otherwise I’ll have to do it myself and take pictures on this family’s front lawn.

So that’s it. I’ve been here for a week and a half and that’s what I have to write about. And for all of you that thought you would miss my random thoughts and stories, pshaw I say, we have the blog for that. But as you can see, I’ve already learned much about the culture and life here in Italy, next step: language.

Look at this photograph… oh wait, no.

(Yes I just quoted Nickelback, for all those who want to mock me, so be it, but it was the only quote I could think of about photographs that worked for me here and it’s a little Canadiana infused into the blog)

So there are photographs, they are pretty and tell a nice little story about where I’m living and the places (actually place) I’ve been. But you’ll have to take my word for it, because right now I neither have the Internet power or patience to download them. I have tried uploading them to Flickr, to Facebook, to this blog… but all of them take much too long with dial-up and I don’t want to waste the time or money doing so. I will try other means of getting them on the web soon.

And for those of you wondering, no Italy isn’t technologically behind in the times, it’s just that the place that I live is high up in the mountains/hills. Cell phone and cable reception is a joke as is ADSL, it does exist, just not in this house or anywhere near here (believe me, I’ve wandered around looking for a wireless connection on my iPod). But what I said about cell phones and cable is true, the only place in the house that they can get reception is if they’re by the windows, we have satellite TV so that’s not a problem (hooray for English programming) but apparently if we did rely on cable it’s sketch, especially when the leaves fall from the trees and fall starts, this makes the cable gods unhappy I guess and turns the TV’s to snowy screens.

But enough about that stuff.

Little update about life in Italy. In a word, it’s great. Wonderful. Fabulous. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Choose your adjective.

I was going to use the photos to narrarate my story, but alas, words will have to suffice.

This week was pretty busy, well busy for me in Italy. I actually left the mountain, where I usually spend my days either reading, studying Italian, listening to chickens squawk and birds chirp, naming said birds and roaming the countryside. It’s all very exciting.

I got myself registered as a citizen and have a Italian version of a social insurance number, meaning I can legally work here, although so far none of the places I’ve interviewed at haven’t seemed too concerned with that. But I have gone on interviews, two to be exact (technically that should be three but when I arrived at one of the schools after much searching they weren’t there for the appointment… very business like). Both were in Vicenza, a city about 40 minute by train from here and really beautiful (pictures would show that, I swear) and I really liked wandering around the city, sitting in the main square and shopping around (window, no buying… yet). At one of the schools I’m going back for a second interview on Monday, where I’ll show them a practice lesson. The second school is world wide and they’re sending me to training next week, apparently their way of teaching is different and I can get a job at any of their schools if I have the certificate. I’m not sure if I’m going to stay with the company, but free training and the chance to meet other English speaking people appeals to me… also a job if I move elsewhere has a slight advantage as well. I have a third interview on Monday morning in Schio, which is much closer for me and easier and cheaper for me to get to, so I’m kinda crossing my fingers for that one.

Other than that, it looks like I’ll need to get driving around here. Most of the school jobs here send out the teachers to companies to teach during lunch or after work, so there are very few jobs within the schools. This means I’ll have to drive myself to these places, a problem for me because I don’t have a car, but even if I did they’re all stick shift (I don’t know how to drive them) and driving here is scary (and confusing) as all get out. I’m considering driving lessons, if I could only find a place that can teach me in English.

My Italian… well it’s sad. I understand more than I speak, I’m practicing, I’m studying, it’s just hard because the dialect here also confuses the heck out of me. Because of the language difference between my uncle and I (who I hang out at home with all day) we don’t really talk while we’re at home, except maybe one word conversations.

But like I said, life here is so great, I’m having a wonderful time and the anthropologist in me is trying to make cultural studies everywhere I go. Such as one on the differences in pedestrian crossings here in Italy and in Vancouver. I swear I will be run down in the street, apparently I’m too polite, I have to walk in front of cars or they wont stop and waving to say thank you is crazy.

Another wonderful thing about Italy… heated towel racks. I’m serious, getting out of the shower to a heated towel, I’m not sure I can go back. Almost makes up for having to pay for public toilets (I refuse, as a small bladdered person, it could get expensive) and the whole squatting aspect of said toilets.

la sigh...

I'll post some stuff soon. I have pictures. I have job news. I have other stuff I want to write about, but unfortunatly I don't have the drive to write said stuff and dial-up takes forever to upload photos (seriously, I'm putting them on flickr and its only 1% complete after 15minutes)

Is anyone else happy to hear that I'm just as unmotivated in Italy as I am in Canada?

Thanks for the comments though people (all 4 of you), I do like to see that this is being read :D

Jet lag, Euros and kissing: Oh my.

I have arrived in safely in Italy. A rather uneventful flight actually, when in all honesty I was expecting something to go wrong. Instead my flight to Amsterdam was filled with intermittent sleep and the layover was only an hour and a half, which gave me enough time to do some duty free shopping and have my bottle of water stolen from the customs guy. Because you know a bottle of Dasani is going to cause harm… yet neither the Vancouver nor Amsterdam security had a problem with my 150ml of hand lotion or my tweezers. I guess I only look like I could be a minor terrorist (they saw neither of my passports, if they saw those they would realize that yes, I could be a potential threat with the way those pictures look). Landing in Venice went smooth, a little too smooth for my taste. I’m used to waiting a long time for my luggage and being harassed by customs people, instead I waited 5 minutes for my suitcases (for those keeping count there were three and they were packed to the max) and walked through the doors after speaking with a total of 0 customs officials.

Anyways, after all that travel I got to my aunt and uncles house in Schio, last time I was here was 13-14 years ago (Dad says 13, I like to think 14, whatever, it was a long time) and when asked what I could remember I said three things: the cross memorial that is just around the corner from the house, the cereal bowls that I eat my breakfast out of and the smell of the bathroom… which is not a bad thing. It’s a good smelling bathroom and I argue that I remember things by smells so this smell reminds me of Italy but they thinks it’s an odd thing to mention (when have I been known for being not-odd though?)

Apparently it’s unusually hot, well it was until I got here. It was about 32 the day I arrived and since my first full day here it’s been rainy and cooler. I swear on Friday I heard more thunder than a year in Vancouver and quiet frankly, this place could rival Vancouver on the rain aspect as well.

I have learned a few things in my 3 days here. Such as jet lag is a bitch. I’m tired all the time and I wake up every morning at 5am like clockwork and stare at the ceiling until about 8 when I fall back asleep. Mid afternoon naps are a must and I’m still tired all the time. Another fun fact about Italy, if at all possible, the host of Who Wants to be a Millionaire is more annoying than Regis, I don’t even understand what he says (but I do get the questions right a lot of the time) but he takes 3-5 minutes to get to the correct answer. Also, Italians have stopped clapping for plane landings. The 3 previous times I was here, every time we landed the Italians clapped for the pilot, I looked forward to it, but alas, they did not pull through. I thought that maybe because I was on KLM and the majority of the people were from the Netherlands they didn’t know about this custom but my aunt and uncle inform me that Italians no longer do this, maybe they realized that it was silly to clap for people because they do their jobs or that the whole thing was just odd. I dunno, I mean I think we should clap for people for doing their jobs, we clap at concerts, plays, speeches, those are all people just doing their job. Lauren claps for the waitress when she brings her her spiked frapps, I would think we should clap for people that do their jobs correctly, I mean it’s often a miracle for people to do things correctly (you know I have a point here) and by encouraging them it might make them want to do it more. Ponder that a bit…

What else? Euros confuse me. I was going to buy my last Starbucks for a long time in the Amsterdam airport but I wasn’t quite sure if I was getting ripped off, turns out I would have been so good thing I abstained. The whole concept of a different currency and prices throw me off… much like learning a new language, but that’s for another day. I like to say I’m still too tired to wrap my brain around another language. As my cousin Jessica put it yesterday “It’s too early to be speaking English” I think that’s my motto for the next couple of days (except English is substituted with Italian of course).

And finally, to wrap this thing up, I went out last night with my cousins Jessica and Christian and their friends (all whom were very nice an some spoke English which was great for me). And for my family reading this, met Christian’s girlfriend, Julia, very nice girl who speaks English very well, I had the honor of meeting her before Livi and Meraldo. I also saw Jessica’s place, very nice and for those of you that know my Italian goals, she claims marriage wont happen for 20 years, but she already has baby names picked out and when she gave me the tour of the place she called the spare room the baby’s room… take what you want from that.
Anyways, we all went out for dinner and had a really great time, came home at 2:30 which works wonders for my sleepiness, although I hoped I wouldn’t wake at 5am, I still did. For those wondering (aka mom and dad) I ate duck (on the pasta) and tried polenta, which was good. I also tried to convince one guy that I lived in an igloo in Canada, I had him going until Christian corrected me, although I’m not sure if he actually believed me since we weren’t communicating in the same language. Also, a source of confusion, the cheek kissing. I always thought it was one on each cheek, people were doing 3 last night, others 4. I sense an anthropological study in the art of greeting people in Italy coming on. Btw, this custom is also common among the men with other men (I challenge the guys in Canada to start that) and another note on the guys here, very chivalrous to their girlfriends (when was the last time a guy got out of the car to get the umbrella and hold it for you as you got out the car ladies?).

Welcome... and other stuff

Welcome to the blog.

I'm not quite sure who will be reading this or where I'm going with this. But I like the idea of having a place where people can come to check out what I'm up to whilst in Italy. It also gives me the chance to document my trip, so even if nobody reads this, I'll have the memories here.

Here's hoping I'll keep this up. Although I'm told Internet isn't so accessible where I'll be at first, so I hope to update as often as possible.

I haven't left yet, but I'm a week away and incredibly excited. I'll be staying at my aunt's place for a while and hopefully traveling a lot around Europe, thus many stories and pictures will keep this blog (hopefully) exciting and fun.

The next week will be filled with last minute prep, packing and trying to fit everything in my suitcases (I have far too many shoes and clothes and I can't chose what I want to stay here and what's going... how do you chose between your children?). I'll also be saying bye to everyone here in Vancouver and trying to get my Vancouver-time in while I can (notice, that I didn't say Surrey-time?)

A little info about where I'll be at first. I'm staying with my Zia Livi and Zio Meraldo in Schio, Italy. Wikipedia had this to say about Schio. The town is about 2 hours from Venice (or so says Google maps) and situated in the province of Vicenza and the region of Veneto. What it means to have a province and a region... well I don't know, but hopefully that's one of the things I find out while I'm there.

The next time I'm posting here I'll be in Italy. Here's hoping for a safe and sleep-filled flight to Amsterdam and then on to Venice.

Ciao!