Weeks Four and Five
Stage of Culture Shock: Settled in.
The start of week four rolled on normally with no big stories or happenings to report. At the beginning of week four, though, I went to CTS, a travel agency in Piazza Roma, and booked a hotel for a weekend away in Bologna. I decided that although my fellow UNHers are great travel partners, I’d do this one alone. I’ve always been an independent person and the opportunity to travel gives me a great feeling of freedom and maturity. Plus, I’ve read and brought one to many travel books with me on my trip (Did I mention the $50 surcharge I paid for my overweight bag filled with books?) and they all suggested to go out and do some traveling alone. A person becomes more approachable when they travel and they get to make the rules and reservations for their whole trip. In the spirit of independence I booked a room at Hotel Ramada Encore, about a 15 minute ride by bus to the historical center of the city. The next day I went to the train station and reserved a seat on the train ride from San Benedetto del Tronto (SBT) to Bologna.
On Thursday after school I went home and packed a few outfits and toiletries and headed with my extremely heavy backpack to the train station. I got on the train from Ascoli Piceno to San Benedetto del Tronto and enjoyed the scenic views of the Adriatic Sea to the left of my passenger car. It was a nice 45 minute trip to the stop over. Restful, relaxing and not at all stressful.
Unfortunately, that ended very fast. When I got to San Benedetto, it took me 10 minutes to realize that I needed to change platforms and go under the subway to get to my train. Simple enough, I went under the “Subway” and got to my platform. The “Subway” is a short underground tunnel to the other platforms on the other side of the tracks. I boarded my train fro SBT to Bologona. That went along fine. I found a seat, sat down and got ready to enjoy a five hour trip to my weekend getaway. The train kept making stops at other stations, which I did not realize happened. I had figured trains were like planes, with nonstop routes. I realize now that stopping is the norm. About a minute before the train stopped it announce the city we were at. I was not suppose to arrive in Bologna until about 8:30pm, so I put my headphones on and played poker on my Ipod.
Suddenly though, someone came over the speakers and said something about the train. Realizing this was a longer message and wasn’t automated like the other ones had been when we’d stop at a destination, I took my headphones off and listened for a bit. Then I realized that I don’t speak Italian and that I didn’t understand any of it. I figured it was just another message about a stop or destination and put my headphones back on. The two people in my cabin got off the train.
A few minutes later, the train started to go backwards the direction we had come it. I looked around, now thinking that we were probably just changing tracks. No big deal, routine train navigation, right?
Then the lights in the cabin went out. The train pulled into a hub off the tracks and stopped. I sat and waited. I looked out the windows and realized, the train had stopped and was not going to Bologna any longer.
Panicking, I stood up and ran through the train with my bag still at my seat, looking for signs of other people. The train was empty. I reached the conductor’s cabin, and the door was open. There was no conductor inside. I ran back to my seat, grabbed my stuff and went to the door to go out onto the platform. It was locked. I tried to pull it open. No luck. I went through another cabin to the door. That one was locked to. I threw my stuff down, my heart pounding. I asked myself why on earth did I think I would be able to navigate the Italian train system alone? How foolish could I be? I tried the door again. Still locked. Then I saw a red lever above the door. It could only be one thing: and emergency door opener.
I grabbed my stuff, pulled the lever, the door opened, and I hopped onto a platform that was about 40 feet from where the other platforms were. I ran to them, not even knowing if an alarm was sounding.
Good news: I was able to quickly find another train that was going to Bologna. I went under the subway, found the platform, and twenty minutes later I was again on my way to Bologna, my heart now settling down after having pounded furiously for a good ten minutes.
Now: Peace and a comfortable spot in my first class seat. Oh, yes. I choose to travel first class. I bought a Eurail ticket, which allows me to travel for six days within two months. It wasn’t too much more expensive to upgrade my seat. Unfortunately, besides a little more room in the seats, first class and second class are pretty much the same. Plus, a lot of Italian trains don’t offer first class seats. Minor inconvenience.
There I was on my third train, riding along comfortably to my weekend away from Ascoli. I calculated that the train glitch only cost me about a half hour from the original time I would have arrived in Bologna.
About two hours go by and I am getting very excited to reach my destination. A few more stops and I’d be in Bologna, a city I’d flown into during my trip to Italy when I was a senior, but had never seen.
This train that I was now on does not announce destinations like the one before had. I think it might have been because it was dark and people may have been sleeping. So, the train stops at a station about two hours into the ride. I happen to look outside and see a ceramic sign on the station building that says “Bologna Municipal" and a few other words in Italian. I jump out of my seat and quickly throw my Ipod, my book and my journal in my bag. I throw it on my back. Instead of looking at the blue sign outside that states the station the train is stopped at, I ask a passenger coming on if this is Bologna, just to make sure. The man, who I assume now does not speak any Italian, said “Si” in an accent I couldn’t place. I let him pass me as he found his seat, and then I ran out of the cabin and out the door onto the platform.
I put my stuff down for a moment. Good thing I had looked up or I would have been on my way to Milan, the train’s final destination. I put my stuff on my back and regrouped as the train sped away from the station. So there I was in Bologna, ready to start my adventure.
I walked out of the station. There was a row of cabs. There were lights in the far, far distance. It didn’t look like a big city to me. I turned around and looked at the building. I forget what town it had written on the top of it, but I’ll tell you one thing: I wasn’t in Bologna.
I was furious. How could that guy tell me I was in Bologna when I wasn’t. I was mad and angry. Then I took a few breaths and collected myself. I realized it wasn’t his fault. International miscommunication. Is this the train that was going to Bologna, he thought I asked .“Si,” he said and then I exited.
Next to the train schedule, I looked at a map of the Emilia-Romagna region in one of my books to see where I had wound up. I was about an hour east of Bologna. I found another train and asked a woman on the platform in my best Italian if it was the one going to Bologna and she said yes. I believed her.
Luckily, she was right and I got to my destination. I took a 10 euro cab to my hotel, not wanting to try my hand at the bus schedule just yet. That could wait until tomorrow. I got to my hotel. Thankfully, I was able to rest my Italian for a day as the receptionist, and as I quickly found out, everyone in Bologna speaks English.
I retired to my room, took a shower, unpacked and fell asleep. It was about 11:00, three hours from my planned arrival time. Add this experience to my international mishap list. There’s more to come, just wait…
The next day, I took the number 25 bus from the stop outside the hotel and rode to the historical center. The bus was easy enough to navigate and besides some traffic on a few of my rides, the bus was easy and cheap, costing only 1 euro every ride.
Bologna was nice. I walked around the city center and up one of the Tori (Towers) of Bologna, the tower next to the one that is leaning. Climbing the tower was a memorable experience. I am deathly afraid of heights and I decided that climbing up a Medieval building with creaking wooden stairs would be a good idea. It’ll be cultural, Alex. This is a tourist site, Alex. Go ahead, climb! Climb I did. I spent three euros and was shaking the whole way up. It must have taken about 30 minutes to climb, and with each creak I thought I was done for and that I would be found under a pile of Medieval stone rubble. I got up there though. I couldn’t go to the edge, because my knees were shaking too much, but I stood and saw the city from the wall in the center of the top of the building. Unfortunately, I didn’t bring my camera the first day so I have no pictures or proof that I went to the top. But, climb it I did. Never again, though. The next day I brought my camera and took a picture of the tower I climbed. I climbed the taller one that's not leaning to its side.
I walked throughout the city and had coffee in Piazza Maggiore. Below are some pictures of the Piazza. Yes, the church is ugly. In short, the history of the church is as follows: The church was not commissioned by the Pope, the people wanted to build it. They funded the church until they ran out of money and had to stop half way up. So, it’s remained unfinished for many centuries. It’s not finished inside, either, but it is in use and is really beautiful and meaningful to the people of Bologna.
Above is a picture of Triton's fountain, to the left of the piazza.
The first day, I stopped at a tratorria and had a big lunch of wine, salad, ragu, and filet steak. Tratorrias are small restaurants that are owned and run by families and feature family recipes. They are usually the best bet for a full Italian meal at a good price and they also offer a fixed menu at a really great price. This meal was about 10 euro for three courses and about two glasses of wine.
Bologna boasts that they have the best food in all of Italy, and let me tell you they are certainly a contender for the title. The meal was delicious.
The third night in Italy, I went to a restaurant near my hotel. I had to be up early the next morning, and didn’t want to venture on the city busses at night, so I walked around the area next to the hotel and found a small restaurant. The food was amazing. I had tortellini in broth and some kind of pork dish. I also had bread with anchovy butter and a few other complimentary small dishes the restaurant served up. It was one of the most delicious meals I’ve had in my life. Unfortunately, it was also one of the most expensive. Except for the hotel, I didn’t really spend much money on my trip, so I consider it an okay expense.
A picture of the pork dish.
Another note about food in Bologna: In my hotel, they served a semi-American breakfast! Since Bologna is an international city known for their business conventions, they need to offer more international fare. I was able to have eggs, bacon, a fresh bowl of fruit and America coffee for three days!
For my souvenir of Bologna, I bought Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone in Italiano. Hopefully, someday I’ll be able to read the book in Italian.
On Sunday, I went back home. The trains again:
I got from Bologna to San Benedetto del Tronto just fine. Once I got there, I had to find a train that would bring me back to Ascoli. I found one on the printed chart by the tracks that would leave in about 15 minutes, but when I looked at the TV screen I saw that it wasn’t on there. I guessed that meant it was cancelled. There was on the screen, however, a train scheduled to leave for Ascoli in about an hour. I went to platform four, where it was taking off, and found a seat on the bench and waited.
An hour went by and still no train. I look around. Other people were still on the platform and I assumed the train was late. I waited about 10 more minutes and looked back at the screen on the other side of the tracks. I could barely make the names on the screen out, but I could see that the train for Ascoli was suddenly gone. I knew that I couldn’t have missed it. I was at the right platform the screen told me to be at.
I crossed under the subway again and stood in line to talk to one of the ticket agents. From what I understood of what the lady said, there is no train to Ascoli on Sundays. I asked if there was a bus. She said, “Si” and then I asked to buy a ticket. She said she didn’t sell them. I asked where I could buy one, she didn’t know. She asked the person working at the next window.
Let me shorten this long story: Trains don’t run from San Benedetto to Ascoli on Sundays. The lady told me I could buy a ticket at the “baby shop.” I had no idea where the baby shop was so I walked out of the station to the bus stop and asked a woman there. She was not sure either and told me all the shops were closed on Sundays. She was also not aware of any baby shops in the area and told me the train to Ascoli leaves from the bus stop on the other side of the street. I went to the other bus stop and asked a guy there. He helped me find the bus I needed to take on the chart and asked me if I had the ticket yet. I said no, and he escorted me to the newspaper shop by the train tracks, where they sell tickets. I bought one. The lady at the ticket window must have translated wrong, because she definitely told me to buy a ticket at the baby shop. I waited on the steps of the train station for an hour for the bus to get there. I hopped on and got back to Ascoli. Add one to the cultural mistake pile, Alex.
By far the highlight of my trip was my train ride experiences. I made it there and back in one piece, and because of that I am very proud of myself.
On Monday and Tuesday of this past week I started my internship helping Italian teachers with their English classes. I help at St. Augostino’s, a few blocks away from where I live. On Monday I help with the fifth grade and on Tuesday with the third for an hour of the day.
I forget the name of the teacher of the fifth grade students, but Raphaela is the woman I help with her third graders. On Monday, the kids were really excited to see and talk to me. During our introduction she said that she teaches science, math and English. Then she laughed, saying that she does not speak it well. I understood her fine, though. The teacher said that I could correct her English when she talks to the students and she would help me with my Italian. The kids took turns asking me questions. Some asked me what sports I liked, if I watched calcio (I explained the difference between American football and the football they were used to). One student asked me if I liked fish and chips. I replied yes, but told him that I believed that was a dish typical of English cuisine, not American. The time with the fifth graders on Monday went by very quickly. The teacher yelled at the rather rambunctious students a few times. I think they were just excited and because of that grew a bit wild. The teacher kept telling me, “This is not my class. First year. This is not my class.” From what she said I gathered that this was the first class she taught at the fifth grade level.
On Tuesday, in Raphaela’s class, I helped the third graders with their reading books. These kids, although two years younger than the kids I helped the day before, were much better behaved. This could be because Raphaela seems like a no-nonsense type of woman. Even still, the kids were great and I really enjoyed helping them. We went over two pages in their English books. One page was a comic strip and the other a picture of a town with a word bank of things in the town like a bakery, police station and a café. The book is produced by a British publisher, so I had to tweak some of the words in the book. On the page that had items of the town on it, there was a double-decker bus and I explained to the kids and Raphaela that those are more typical of a British city, not American. Also, I told them that although we have cafés in America, we usually call them coffee shops and I told them that in American coffee shops they usually only sell donuts, not like in their cafés where sandwiches, meals and pastries are all sold. I did say that this is starting to change, though.
I had a really great time with both of the classes this week. It is so awesome to get to work with the kids and the teachers. The school system is not much different than what I remember my elementary school experience being like. However, they had one really great feature to their schools: They lock all the doors. They have a buzzer outside and I needed to talk to the main office to be let in. Once that’s done, I had to walk upstairs to another locked door where a lady dressed in a teal uniform resembling a nurse’s surgical outfit and who I presume is the hall monitor, let me in and escorted me to my classroom. There was another hall-monitor on the other side of the corridor, dressed in the same teal outfit. I thought this was a really unique safety precaution.
Also something I found kind of unusual: Midway through my hour with Raphaela, her cell phone rang and she picked it up and walked out of the room to talk. Kind of unusual.
After Monday’s class with the third graders, I headed back to school to Christina’s Art and Architecture class. That day, she led us all on a tour of Ascoli’s medieval churches. That was really interesting and I am very glad she was with us to explain the historical significance of the artwork on the walls and the churches themselves.
These past two weeks, I have been working with Adam on and off trying to get my movie edited and finished. I had a two-hour editing session with him today where we locked in all the visual shots of the actors and scenes. A couple more hours of working with the audio and my movie, Ascoli Ottobre, will be finished! The class, which is six weeks long, finishes up next week and we are going to have a “film festival” of the class’s three movies that Jessica will host. I really have enjoyed these past few weeks doing something that I never thought I would be interested in. Although I still think I’m most interested in the writing aspect of movie-making, at least I know that the whole process is fun and certainly entertaining.
The week rolled on pretty steadily after that. This Sunday I’m going to the opera to see
The Magic Flute. I’m excited to go because it gives me the opportunity to experience another part of Italian culture. Well, I’ve been writing for a while and I need to get some work for Art and Architecture started.
Ciao!
