Second Mission

Some extra thoughts from the old post:

Food: Italian food is delicious and it is famous around the world, but unfortunately here there is not a wide variety…the only kind of food you get it is Italian. Dinner is always at least a two-course meal and they NEVER drink pop on the table…only sparkling or mineral water

Traffic: I am amazed at how the little FIAT Pandas struggle up and down those dirt roads on a 60-degree incline! When you get into a car, you have to hold on tight, because they pass each other so closely, they stop so abruptly and the roads are so uneven, that it almost seems like a roller coaster ride. I love that the buses are supposed to be paid, but the driver kind of looks the other way so everyone rides the bus that goes from the village to the town for free ☺

The Adaptation

Adapting to Italian culture was not very difficult, since Italian people are already open and welcoming – in fact I think that it has been more difficult explaining to Italians that I am not from Italy (since my name is already coincidentally Italian and according to them, I also look Italian).
When I explain the purpose of my stay in Italy, Italians cannot seem to understand why someone under the age of 30 would voluntarily choose to leave their family and home country in order to spend 3 months alone in a foreign environment. To them, this is one of the cruelest human tortures possible.

The dinner issue
One particularity to which I’ve been forced to adapt is the way I look at food. In my family, when someone is hungry he or she can eat, regardless of the time of day! Also, at home, inviting someone to dinner with you is a common courtesy. Here in Tuscany, however, dinner is a big, official ceremony with at least 3 courses, which cannot be attended without an official invitation. Being invited to dinner means that the family has already accepted you as one of their own or at least as an honorary guest. Thus, whenever I mention to outsiders that I dine with my 82 year old “boss” they always suspect an affair (So, with this blog, I’d really like to also clear my name and deny all suspicions LOL).

Growing Up
When I first arrived here, my idea of the internship was kind of like a child who is going to visit her family in another part of the world. I expected my host family and employers to gently embrace me under their dragon wings, but instead my supervisor kind of left me to fend on my own. I now realize that this experience is supposed to take me out of my comfort zone and to make me feel somewhat uncomfortable. It is supposed to be an experience both enjoyable and difficult, because it is true that unfortunately the only time when a person has the opportunity to build character and to become better, is during a time of struggle. So all those solitary nights of sweating over a hot plate and a bowl of boiling pasta make me tougher ☺

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly
Tourists usually always want to see the most beautiful things that a country has to offer. Au contraire, I like this internship, because it has given me the opportunity to discover the Italy that they wouldn’t teach in the classrooms. For example, I’ve learned that immigrants here have a much harder time than they do in Canada. The only work available for Africans is walking around the cities and beaches trying to sell useless junk that nobody buys. Romanian women instead, always work as housekeepers or care givers for the elderly or the sick. The Romanian housekeepers who work here with me, have to be available 24hrs/day 7 days a week to cater to the wishes of the 82yr old owner; they wash his clothes, clean the bathrooms, iron, cook for him, work in the garden and sleep in the server’s quarters – far from a 5 star hotel.

Being a tour Guide is Stressful…really
As my main responsibility here is to take visitors for a tour around the Villa and show and explain to them all the art works, I’d like to say that it is a rather stressful job. Even when I have to do it in English, I feel somewhat nervous, because although I like interacting with people I am not very authoritarian or directive. The fact that I have to make a group of 30 Italians listen to me and pay attention directly to me for 4 hours, in their native language, honestly stresses me out! By now, I’ve become relative comfortable, but the first tours that I had to do I honestly blabbered a whole bunch of gibberish that probably made no sense.

First Mission

The first few days
My first week here in the village of Santomato, Tuscany passed by so quickly that it made my head spin. The first few days, my three years of studying Italian added up to one very grammatically complicated phrase “uhhhh….si” or sometimes “uhhh…no”. My host family is a family of extravagant Italian millionaires, and I find it very difficult understanding their habits (just like they find it difficult understanding my Italian – I guess it’s a mutual misunderstanding). One thing that I would like to underline is that I am marveled that the owners choose to grow their own lemon tress, cherries, figs and olives and than personally go out in the field to collect "la recolta".

Casper is the least of my worries
South of the main house on the property you will find a shady looking building of three apartments, two of which are being renovated and one that needs to be renovated – mine. Figuring out how to use the “appliances” in my apartment should be at least a college degree on its own, because there are many combinations of appliances that make the electricity in the entire building go out if turned on simultaneously. By now, I’m completely used to having to go down to the basement with a flashlight at least once a day and play with all the electrical switches until the electricity comes back by itself.

Construction workers to the rescue
Another very special feature of my accommodations is that the bathroom is separate from the apartment, but the apartment door can only be opened from the inside, since there is no handle on the outside. So whenever I have to use the bathroom, I have to bring with me a heavy medieval-style keychain, with medieval style keys, otherwise I remain locked on the outside. Needless to say, one time I left my heavy medieval keys in the kitchen and went to take a shower, the wind slammed my apartment door behind me and left me locked out. Thank God for the friendly construction workers who politely offered to climb on a ladder, break the mosquito nets on the windows and enter my bedroom to let me in?

Missing Munchies
Normally, in Mississauga, my fridge is full of food and whenever I crave any kind of snack, I just hop into the car and it’s a five-minute drive to the nearest 24hr drive-through Wendy’s. Here, however stores close at 7pm, and they have an obligatory nap-break from 1pm-4pm. Since my nearest supermarket is a 35 min walk through a dirt road, then a field and then a small village in 45C heat, getting those Fruit Roll-Ups is never an easy task. I swear the walk to the grocery store, seems like its uphill both ways! Also, I’ve noticed that whenever I buy a family-size bottle of Coca-Cola, half of it seems to disappear before I even arrive home.

Famously Forward Italian Men
Yes, it is true. Italian men are much more daring and forward than Canadians. At times, they are uncomfortably daring and forward. A common greeting to a young woman here in Italy would be “Ciao Bella/Cara/Carissima” whereas a common question asked when meeting for the first time would be “When are you taking me to (insert country of origin) to meet the in-laws?” Also, walking down the road (provocative clothing not necessary) I’ve noticed that male drivers do not spare honking the horn or yelling comments out of the car windows.