Emily Hyder Profile: Emily is a senior from Glendora, CA, majoring in English with an emphasis in writing. She is returning to Jewell after a year studying abroad in England and Italy. After graduation in December, Emily plans to pursue a career in food journalism. Interests: God, family, travel, gastronomy, books, writing, outdoor activities.  Personal Blogsite    Recent Posts Giving Thanks - 11.26 Buzzword - 11.19 Retention Meeting - 11.12 Election Day - 11.05 Baking  - 10.22 Only as good as you...  - 10.15 10 Reasons... - 10.08 423 More Things... - 10.01 Bursting the Bubble - 09.24 The Tangled Web... - 09.17 March On - 09.09 Times, they are a... - 08.27 Notes From The Green... - 08.06 and on your right... - 07.23 Tour Guide - 07.08 Donut Man Wisdom - 06.27 Two Seasons - 06.18 Postmarked - 06.12 Oxford Loyalty - 06.04 Buon Viaggio - 05.27 The Great Divide - 05.15 List Making Merrimant - 04.29 Living Literature - 04.22 Ponderations - 04.16 Translation, please - 04.09 An American in Paris - 04.01 La Vita Tuscania - 03.18 Midterm Madness - 03.11 Transportation adventur... - 03.04 Verde Italia - 02.27 A day in the life of... - 02.19 Gumby Girl - 02.12 Ciao a Tuscania! - 01.28 Cookie-Cutter College - 01.21  Archive: Fall 2007

This blog archive contains posts from Emily Hyder's 2008 semester abroad in Italy.

 Wednesday, January 7, 2009 

Happy New Years!

My internal calendar has run on a September to August schedule for quite some time, so it always surprises me when a new year rolls around and I begin to ponder all the things that the past 12 months – beginning in January – have held. It seems like eons go that I was a junior at William Jewell, studying in Italy and traveling around Europe. Now I’m a college graduate and it was all in the same year!

Two thousand and eight was a fast and full year, crammed with new experiences, life-altering accomplishments and major change. To name a few:

• After a wonderful semester in Oxford, England, I spent another 4 ½ months (Jan. – May) abroad studying in Tuscania, Italy.
• I celebrated my 21st birthday in Florence, Italy with old and new friends.
• 2008 was the first year without my awesome Gramma Stewart.
• In August, I moved back to Liberty and into my first apartment.
• I graduated from WJC!

Not everything in 2008 went smoothly or as expected, but it never ceases to amaze me how God chooses to bless, redirect and mold my life, year after year, with such an unflagging and steady love.

Remembering and reflecting on God’s work in my life this past year makes me even more conscious about how I want to live and what I want to do in 2009. As I watched from my comfy couch, the beautifully decorated floats drive down the sunny streets of Pasadena just a few miles away, I began to formulate some goals for the next year. My list isn’t complete but it’s well on its way to be a challenging order with things as fun as making everything in Betty Crocker’s Whole Grains cookbook and finding innovative ways to present my photography to personally challenging things like extending the same grace and love to others that God bestows on me.

I have a feeling that 2009 is going to be just as fast and full as 2008 – and I can’t wait to see what new challenges and changes it holds.

 Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Change

When my life has reached an even keel and I’ve settled into a routine, I begin to believe that I deal with change really well, that I adapt to life’s alterations with ease. After the big upheaval of my move from CA to MO this August had died down, the logistical and emotional turbulence that accompanied this adjustment seemed to fade into a dream. However, the most recent modification to my life – graduation – has reminded me how much effort me to process change in a rational manner.

I’d like to say that after 21 years of inevitable change I’ve learned to recognize the tell tale signs of a change induced freak-out: constricting chest muscles, mild nausea and extreme exhaustion stealthily inserting themselves into my everyday life. It usually takes a close family member to remind me of the current flip-flop approaching before I put two and two together. But with graduation being quite a large change, I was able to pinpoint this as a source of stress.

Not only is graduating a big transition, but it is also a change in identity. After 17 years of being a student, it feels odd not to be classified as such. I now find myself on the hunt for a new title. Although I do have a job lined up starting in January, it is in no way careerish. And that’s where my entrance into the working world gets a little complicated – I really don’t know what I want to do. This is intrinsically upsetting to a ducks-in-a-row type person like me.

So, as of now, I don’t have anything figured out. There are multitudinous variables that I don’t know and can’t predict. My goal for the rest of my break and the subsequent months until I actually walk with my graduating class, is adopt a prayerful and humble attitude about seeking God’s will for my post-schooling life. 

 Wednesday, December 3, 2008

Full Bloom 

If I were to do college all over again, I would have majored in Art. I don’t regret my English major and the skills I’ve developed will serve me well; but over the past few years, a creative streak has burgeoned forth that refuses to be ignored.

Despite my current major, I’ve certainly had ample opportunity to explore a budding interest in visual art, especially photography. I took Photography I Spring semester of my sophomore year. Working in black and white and developing my own 35 mm film made the creative process of photography that much more enticing. My affection was captured and my abilities continued to develop while I was overseas. In Italy, I took a digital photography class, which required me to purchase a better camera (oh shucks…). Carlos, my instructor, pointed out a pattern in my photos, a propensity pretty objects with petals.

I soon garnered quite the collection of macro floral photos, as well as a reputation. My classmates started tagging me in their own flower photographs on Facebook, sending me quotes about flowers, and pointing out flowers I might have missed on our photography expeditions during class. I realized this wasn’t a new affinity when I looked through pictures I had taken from my previous semester abroad and discovered a suspicious amount of flora and fauna mixed in with people and places.

I’ve wanted to do something with my abundance of photos of such a lovely subject since the summer. So, my photography independent study morphed into a project that I have finally finished. I compiled and designed a coffee table type book of my best flower shots using Book Smart (a self-publishing software). The title is Full Bloom. It’s basically a celebration of budding beauty from around the world and the God who created it. 

Check out the rest of my book at: http://www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/439640

 Wednesday, November 26, 2008  

Giving Thanks

Around this time last year, I was cobbling together an eclectic Thanksgiving spread with my three roommates in Oxford, England. We tried to recreate our family favorites with limited funds and proper groceries. My grandma’s macaroni and cheese morphed into leftover Kraft mac and cheese baked in a pie tin with buttered-bread crumbs on top (actually tasted a lot better than it sounds), homemade rolls were a sliced French baguette, and our bird was four turkey breasts.

I’m excited for a traditional American Thanksgiving with close relatives this year, but I wouldn’t trade last year’s experience. It was fun, tasty, and part of the study abroad experience. I’m thankful I had the opportunity – which brings me to the point of this post. Once I started my appreciative reflections, I couldn’t really stop at getting to study abroad. So, here is a small list of things I’m thankful for about William Jewell.

• The abundance of study abroad opportunities: Not every school has such a wide range of programs to choose from or the freedom to find one that does suit your interests. Plus, Jewell encourages their students to explore these opportunities by keeping the costs low and having a dedicated Overseas Coordinator who is helpful and supportive.
• Five days off for Thanksgiving: I couldn’t help but put this one in. Even though I’ll be working on a 20-page paper, I’m so looking forward to a longer break.
• Teachers who know my name: It’s truly awesome to attend a school where students are guaranteed to have meaningful relationships with at least one person on faculty or staff.
• Academic flexibility: Jewell allows students to explore what they are passionate about, even if it doesn’t quite scream scholastic. I’m getting school credit for creating a portfolio of my macro flower photography.
• Multiple ways to get involved: I recently filled out my profile for Alumni Services. One of the questions was a “check all that apply” type thing with every possible activity, club, or group that Jewell has to offer. I’m not a Student Senate or Greek kinda girl, but it still amazed me at how many boxes I could check. There really is something for everyone on campus if you are diligently trying to find it. And if you don’t find it, the beauty of Jewell is that you can get it started yourself!

That was just a small sampling of things I appreciate about Jewell. This post is admittedly cliché, but as I get closer and closer (3 weeks) to graduation, I can’t help but acknowledge all the good things about the College and my 3 ½ years here.

 Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Buzzword

For some reason, trendy catchphrases – you know, the cyclically popular, politically correct lingo that gets incessant attention at business meetings, around college campuses, and on talk shows – have always gotten under my skin. I can appreciate the intent behind most of them, but with so much over use, the message seems to lose its potency. It begins to appear insincere.

One of those buzzwords is diversity. The Oxford English Dictionary (yeah, I’m a geek) defines diversity simply as “the condition or quality of being diverse, different or varied.” I certainly support being unique. No one has the same combination of passions, gifts, and accomplishments, which makes interacting with one another worthwhile.

What bothers me about diversity is not the meaning of the word but what the word has come to signify in society. It’s no longer a celebration of what, deep down, makes each of us individuals, but it emphasizes how we appear different. Our ethnicities are definitely worth celebrating and do contribute to our identity; however, I would rather be known for an obsession with all things Jane Austen, a passion for baking, or an inability to carry a tune than whether I was Hispanic, Caucasian, or Latin American. Sadly, I think most of what truly makes us original is lost when we try to force diversity.

Instead of putting pressure on people to cultivate diversity, it would be more effective to create opportunities that encouraged people to appreciate our differences. The Harriman-Jewell Series, whose mission is to bring the best of performing arts to Kansas City, is a great example of this concept. The ‘best’ showcases innumerable performers with various talents and backgrounds. I saw two phenomenal shows last week. The Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater performed excerpts from many of the renowned African American dancer’s most popular ballets to celebrate their 50th anniversary. Two nights later, dancer and choreographer, Jose Porcel took the stage with a company of amazing flamenco dancers, putting on a steamy show that brought the crowd to their feet.

I appreciate programs like Harriman-Jewell Series because they present opportunities for people to participate in and support diversity without feeling obligated. Real diversity won’t sprout under coercion, but out of an authentic desire to honor what makes each of us who we are.

 Wednesday, November 12, 2008   

Retention Meeting

A retention consultant came to campus on Monday and wanted to meet with a group of students to dissect William Jewell’s ability to maintain a steady enrollment. A panel of about 15 student was assembled, mostly seniors of various majors with three or four sophomores, a junior, and a first-year. I was asked to participate in this panel discussion and the premise was simple. We had 30 minutes to toss around two questions: what does Jewell do well? and what does Jewell not do well? The consultant was going to use the dialogue from this meeting to help formulate her recommendations to the College. Here is what our conversation revolved around:

What does Jewell do well?
(We didn’t focus on this question because she mainly wanted to know how to improve Jewell)

• Small class sizes
• One on one attention from professors and advisors
• Flexible academic programs
• Wide variety of organizations and opportunities to participate
• Effective first-year experience including
• Research opportunities in your field with faculty or individually

What does Jewell not do well?

• Large increases in tuition without increasing scholarships to compensate
  • Is Jewell even a “good value” anymore?
    
• General Education program
  • Difficulty of Responsible Self
  • Inability to transfer credits to other schools easily because of unique program
    
• GPA system – most students felt and A should be an A whether it has a minus or not
• Lack of school spirit
• Hard to get face time with certain administrators
• Cafeteria hours/food quality
• A student Union that feels more like a hotel lobby
• Minimal spaces to hang-out in large groups
• Not much to do on campus

Although that second list seems pretty negative, we were invited to complain. It was a great opportunity to get some pressing student concerns out to someone with some non-Jewell perspective and influence. I may not agree with where the College is heading in the future but it is a high quality institution committed to challenging academics and fostering a close-knit community. I hope that Jewell takes these issues to heart and is serious about pursuing some of the consultant’s suggestions.

 Wednesday, November 5, 2008 

Election Day

Even in the darkness still weighing on Liberty at 6 am on Tuesday morning, I could see a long lines of cars snaking its way into the already packed parking lot at Pleasant Valley Baptist Church. I had already spent an hour amidst the frantic running about at the election offices in town but that hadn’t prepare me for the full blown (relatively organized) chaos at the polls.

I’m not the most politically minded person. At the risk of completely discrediting any intelligence you think I may have, I’ll admit that I was unable to give an adequate answer last semester when an Italian high school student asked me to explain what the vice-president does. Unfortunately, there is incriminating video documentation of my political failings.

So, when the opportunity for Jewell students to work at the polls on this historical Election Day came up, I readily jumped at the chance, thinking it may redeem some of my previous civic boobery. Since I’m not registered in Clay County, I couldn’t be a Judge (those people who check your ID and hand out ballots). Instead, I spent seven hours directing traffic, sharpening pencils, and handing out I Voted stickers.

The whole experience brought out the best and worst in Clay Country residents. First I was assigned to Liberty 10 precinct, which has 2,200 registered voters. A morning rush caused tensions to rise as people waited in line for an average of 45 minutes. It amazed me how snippy people could get because of a dull pencil or the fact that they were standing in the wrong line. On the other hand, when I moved over to the Kansas City 21 precinct, which has 7,000 registered voters, I was struck by people’s willingness to wait in line for around 2 hours to cast their vote. Even though I heard some grumbling, all those people still cared enough to stick it out.

Overall, it was a worthwhile experience that I would recommend to anyone and I certainly applaud those who serve for full (14 hour) days. I came away with an appreciation for my right to vote and the work behind the process itself. Plus, it gave me some good stories to tell. I think my favorite was the woman who asked me if I had a key to the church library book drop. Her husband thought it was the ballot box and had confidently slid his completed form to rest among the items waiting to be checked-in. 

 Wednesday, October 22, 2008 

Baking 

Some people jog or do cross word puzzles to clear their heads – I bake. While this isn’t inherently a bad habit, there are two factors in my current situation that makes my passion for pastries a bit dangerous. I live by myself so...

1. there is no one to regulate my baking frenzies (or at least keep them to a few hours) and
2. after one of these stress relieving bake-a-thons, I’m left with mountains of goodies and no one to consume them but me.

While factor number one won’t change anytime soon, I had a brief respite from the baking constraints of factor number two last week. My brother flew out for a visit over Fall Break. His impending arrival not only spurred on a complete deep cleaning of my apartment, but also a baking marathon. I had intended to make Molasses Crinkles (a wonderful riff on gingerbread in cookie form), but they are a bit time intensive and vacuuming was sucking up precious minutes.

A family friend had recently given me a recipe for Half Moon Cookies (chocolate cookie frosted with both chocolate and vanilla buttercream) that used a chocolate cake mix and some extra flour as the base. It was quick, simple, and tasty. I didn’t see why a yellow cake mix version wouldn’t turn out just as good. With a little spice from cinnamon and nutmeg, the dough baked into fragrant fall cookies. Instead of standard chocolate or vanilla, I had visions of caramel frosting crowning these golden cakes. I didn’t have heavy cream, but my obsession with flavored coffee creamer saved the day. A jigger of Cinnamon Bun creamer gave the fudge like frosting a spicy undertone that married well with the delicate cookie.

My brother didn’t miss the Molasses Crinkles.

 Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Only as good as you make it

It seems like my mom and I have discussed a particular topic pretty frequently over the past couple years. There are certainly many recurring themes woven into our weekly Saturday phone chats, mainly those that revolve around me eating properly now that I live off campus, driving with my glasses on at night, and taking my daily vitamin – daily; but the aforementioned issue is more philosophical, a cross between nostalgia and pondering the future.

I had a lot of social, scholastic and spiritual expectations about college and, more specifically, William Jewell when I made my four-year commitment to this school. When my first year fell frightfully short of those expectations, I explored every possible option that might alleviate my dissatisfaction. I looked into a few other Christian colleges in California, even going as far as filling out an application and writing those pesky admittance essays for Focus on the Family Institute in Colorado Springs, CO. I also seriously considered ditching traditional higher education in favor of culinary school.

After much inner turmoil over the course of my second semester at Jewell and the summer before my sophomore year, I still felt God’s original call for me to attend Jewell (the same strong inclination that made me apply solely to WJC when all my other high school classmates were spreading their intellectual seed to a myriad of gardens). Although Jewell isn’t a perfect institution and even as a senior I still have a few beefs about the College, I consider myself fortunate to have spent my college career on the Hill.

The substance behind that feeling of fortune is what crops up from time to time when I’m talking to my mom about school. Just this weekend we had another “you’ve gotten so much out of Jewell” reveries. I had been polishing my resume for an internship I’m applying for and realized most of the unique, and hopefully enticing to future employers, skills and experience I’ve gained over the past few years have been things William Jewell facilitated, both directly and indirectly.

My first encounter with Jewell endorsed academic exploration actually came out of my search for Jewell alternatives. Long story short, I ended up at Oakland House Seaside Resort in Brooksville, ME for three weeks designing, compiling, and editing a cookbook for the resident pastry chef. Jewell honored the time I spent utilizing my writing/editing skills with English internship credit.

The list goes on: Jewell offers amazing overseas study opportunities, one of which allowed me to study Jane Austen and CS Lewis in Oxford. When the College didn’t have a program in Italy I was thrilled about, the powers that be allowed me to explore unapproved programs. My semester studying photography, literature and food in Italy was out of the ordinary and on beyond cool. Plus, my academic advisor worked with me the classes available through Lorenzo de’Medici to fulfill some course credits I needed in order to keep my December graduation date.

Jewell’s benefits aren’t limited to off-campus experiences. The Career Mentor Program is truly one of Jewell’s best kept secrets. Any school that offers such easy access to networking is a real jewel. The Career Mentor board hooked me up with Jill Silva, Food Editor of the Kansas City Star. I spent time with her at the office, in meetings, on photo shoots and at conferences. Because of Jill and her connections, I spent countless hours with a food photographer preparing and styling dishes for upcoming editions of the food section and had tapas with Lauren Chapin, the Star’s food critic.

It’s because of Lauren that I’m even writing this blog. She came up with the idea of an overseas culinary blog (although more food centric than would have been appropriate for Jewell’s website) after I explained my passion for writing and food. Dr. Maltby (one of my favorite professors who taught Writing in the Real World) helped me transform that brainchild into a realistic proposal, which, the College also thought was a decent idea.

My list doesn’t stop there, but I think my point is clear – the quality of your four years at William Jewell is only as good as what your willing to get out of it. Jewell’s emphasis on developing student’s unique interests and skills is evident in how they accommodate eccentric academic goals. Take advantage of all the awesome opportunities or create your own! I can still think of a handful of things that I dislike about Jewell (yoga class and caf food being two that instantly jump to mind) but for me, the benefits vastly out weigh any negatives. I’m glad I’ll be graduating from a college that took the time to foster my individual potential. 

 Wednesday, October 8, 2008 

10 Reasons to Love October

It’s hard for me to comprehend that it’s already October, a few days away from double-digits in October no less. October is a great month, with more things to celebrate than the Cucurbita moschata (the pumpkin for us non Latin speaking types). Brits will read lots of Harry Potter during Children’s Book Week. Several countries, like Nigeria, Croatia, and Greece, commemorate their independence in October. My personal favorite falls on October 21st – a day devoted to a fruit which when eaten everyday will keep the doctor away. On top of all these festivities, the weather is in a prime transitional phase – the lingering dog days of summer fade into the crisp chill of autumn. Golden hues of changing leaves reflect the gathering glow of a new season.

October is a great time on The Hill as well. Here’s a small list of things I celebrate about Jewell and it’s environs in October:

1. Jewell’s Ivy League aesthetic is set off to best advantage during October. Somehow the brick buildings are enhanced by burnt orange and gold falling foliage.
2. The pastry chefs in the caf start to catch the holiday spirit, whipping up pans of amazing pumpkin pie. Mix a large helping with a generous swirl of vanilla soft serve and you’ve got yourself a festive concoction that rivals Sheridan’s pumpkin pie concrete any day.
3. On the same note, beginning in October, I allow myself to start thinking about Thanksgiving dinner in the cafeteria. I don’t have a meal plan since I live off campus, but I’ve given my friends specific instructions to raise the alarm when the food services staff starts to bring out the tablecloths…
4. Fall Break. Enough said.
5. I’ve never been a huge football fan, but I can always get behind a bit of friendly competition during Homecoming week.
6. Matt Wertz in concert.
7. Washing down apple fritters and apple cobbler with freshly pressed apple cider at Weston’s annual Applefest.
8. The Harriman-Jewell Series kicks off its season in October with world-renowned violinist Itzhak Perlman.
9. October means cooler days. Cooler days mean more time spent at By The Book (my favorite book store/coffee shop on the Square) sipping festive coffee drinks like caramel apple lattes.
10. Show up at Chipotle wrapped in foil on Halloween and you get a free burrito! 

 Wednesday, October 1, 2008 

423 More Things To Do Today

“There’s nothing to do here” - it was the number one complaint among young people in Glendora, California, a seemingly never ending curse that plagued the teenage set all year around. My hometown was hopelessly lacking in adolescent entertainment. This conundrum provided endless article fodder for The Tartan Shield, my high school newspaper. I think it made an appearance in every section of the paper, from Feature to Focus, Sports to Entertainment – I even worked it into the News page once, the headline reading: “GHS student dies of boredom over the weekend” (or something along those lines anyways…)

Looking back, the critical issue was transportation. The majority of teens weren’t driving age and thus needed more local forms of fun, which, admittedly, were rather lacking in my particular slice of suburbia. Case in point: it has taken almost ten years of talk to break ground on a movie theater in Glendora, let alone produce some sort of actual building.

When kids did start getting those coveted passes to freedom we call a driver’s license, the “there’s nothing to do in Glendora” excuse collapsed only to reveal a more deep seeded epidemic. The truth is, Glendora is only twenty-seven miles from Los Angeles, a social hub and densely populated megalopolis with plenty going on. However, it always seemed unapproachable for many life-long Glendorans like me. For one, driving into LA requires an innate sense of direction (or the ability to visualize maps in your head) – neither of which do I possess. Also, despite all the Hollywood hype and media guided misconceptions, LA isn’t the most picturesque and inviting big cities around. So despite my proximity, most weekends my friends and I were still pondering that million-dollar question when Monday rolled around again.

It’s taken me a couple years to build a rudimentary directional foundation for Kansas City, but I’m pleased to say my last couple adventures required no “turn arounds.” Aside from a few sketchy neighborhoods, that pesky interchange where it seems like all the freeways got whirred in a blender with the lid off, and occasional inclement weather, KC was a pleasant surprise for my starved social calendar. Plus, it only takes 20 minutes to zip into the heart of KC instead of 40 minutes to arrive on the outskirts of LA, without factoring in the potential for mind-numbingly slow traffic of course.

With all of its intercity subdivisions, KC appeals to all “types” of people. On any given Friday night, there is bound to be something going on – whether you’re an art student or socialite, athlete or hippie. I experienced this first hand when my friend Kristina and I were trying to drum up plans last Friday. She was scheduled to get off work at six, so we decided to spend the evening down town. I told her I would check out the entertainment possibilities. A quick Google search led me to The Pitch’s website where I quickly discovered over 400 things we could do that night.

While more than half of them were advertising Happy Hour at this bar or that club, I became instantly knowledgeable about what bands were playing where, what galleries and museums had special collections open, and what venues had salsa/swing dancing. Even though we settled on a casual BBQ dinner at Oklahoma Joes and a long jaunt around the Plaza – which weren’t on the list – instead of Oktoberfest at Crown Center or a tour at the Harley Davidson plant, I still felt good that there were 398 other options floating around for me to choose from. 

 Wednesday, September 24, 2008 

Bursting The Bubble

It’s finally arrived – the point in the semester that I dread the most. Three weeks of classes are over. The first tests and essays are about to commence. Syllabi have been handed out and dissected. Novels have been read. Lectures have been given. Notes have been taken. All of this scholastic intake has made my mind full to the bursting point. But somehow, testing isn’t my idea of a fun way to pop the balloon.

Quite frankly, when I think of my first test and essay coming up this week, I get a sense of impending doom. The examinations themselves don’t freak me out, it’s the build up – the memorization, the studying, the writing, the quizzing – that I’m not particularly fond of. The thought almost ruins the relatively pleasant learning experience I’ve had thus far during my senior year. Despite my fear and trepidation, discussing Faulkner has actually been enjoyable, stimulating and worthwhile. I was hoping Dr. Walters would just keep class on that nice constant equilibrium. Even listening to lectures about democracy and capitalism has been beneficial to my non-civic mind.

But alas, my first essay is due on Wednesday, which in itself wouldn’t be a problem except all of my classes are at the performance evaluation stage. Two papers and one test later, I’ll be thrilled when Friday rolls around. I realize this is just the way college goes. And in no way am I complaining because many students have a heavier load than I do. However, for someone who pays attention in class, applies herself in extracurricular studying and gets her work done on time, testing always seemed like an unnecessary evil – a stressful one at that.

Writing about my “first test syndrome” won’t change the system, but it has been therapeutic for me. It reminds me that testing is a necessary thorn-in-the-side for students and – my saving grace – that I can count the amount of tests/essays I have left on two hands! 

 Wednesday, September 17, 2008 

The Tangled Web We Weave

My life as an English major is complicated – a jumble of contradicting threads that criss cross, play do-see-do and butt heads occasionally. I have a love hate relationship with the two basic foundations for studying English: literature and writing. Regardless of these bipolar tendencies, I’ve somehow entrapped myself in the resulting web of inconsistencies: I declared an English major way before my first class at Jewell, stuck with it (with a switch in emphasis along the way), and can’t imagine being any other major.

So, for better or worse, I’m taking the last two courses I need to fulfill my major this semester – Career Paths and my English capstone, Advanced Lit Studies. The latter brings us to the first contradiction: analyzing literature. I’ll be the first to admit that the thought of reading works by William Faulkner and then being held accountable for careful reflections on the text made me a bit queasy. I could sit and read Jane Austen for hours, engaging in probing chitchat about themes, characters and style with a fellow enthusiast, but when it comes to a classroom setting, performance anxiety sets in.

To be honest, I rarely have original ideas about literature. Give me a concept, a gold nugget of inspiration, and I’ll run with it. I can sift through pans of dirt and sand with the best of them, even if it only results in a few flecks of literary precious metal. In literature classes, I feel this internal pressure to have highly intellectual comments and insightful critical commentary on every word – which is, in every sense of the phrase, beyond me.

However, thus far, I’ve really enjoyed my capstone. It may be my last English course at Jewell but it’s my first class with Dr. Walters and my first time reading Faulkner. Although I found our first text, Sanctuary, to be rather disturbing in both content and social context, the discussion of both have been stimulating. Dr. Walter’s approach to analyzing literature is less formulaic and more exploratory with the emphasis being on helping expand your understanding of the text instead of demanding immediate scholarly conclusions. A small class size (9 students) also facilitates a more relaxed conversational style of learning.

All of that said, I’m still dreading the 20 page paper about Faulkner and the art of seduction I’ll have to write at the end of the semester.

 Tuesday, September 9, 2008

March On

Moist with a coating of sticky, immobile air, nerves - probably more visible than I hoped – produce a timid expression across my face; I slowly make my way around Jewell Hall, counting the number of bricks left until I (and the rest of the freshman class) can stop being the center of everyone’s gaze. As I pass my family, they send exuberant waves as my mom wields the camera trying to capture this event in my college history. I’m both excited and nervous as all get out.

It may be overly cliché to say, but it really feels like yesterday that I was walking around the Quad – a first-year, Southern California transplant – about to start my college adventure at William Jewell. And at Jewell, I know that event is supposed to happen twice (to begin and end your college days), but every year I’ve felt like I was marching behind those bagpipes into the unknown.

After the feelings I described above that captured my first experience, I was pretty psyched not to be so new at the start of my second year. However, I just couldn’t escape the Quad. I was a Shepherd (spiritual mentors in residence halls) for Ely my sophomore year and part of our responsibilities is to assist on move in day – help unload, provide moral support, that sort of thing. So, although I wasn’t walking myself, I was an active participant in the crowd. We all gathered with parents and friends to ring in the new class.

Even though I wasn’t on campus last year, I experienced my own march around the Quad in a metaphorical sense. I studied overseas in Oxford during fall semester and Italy during spring semester. Talk about marching into a new adventure! My ‘other countries’ experience was limited to a Mexico missions trip I went on in 10th grade (and living around Los Angeles makes that less of a traveling experience). So, although I wasn’t present for the first-years’ inauguration, I participated in a pseudo Quad march to St. John’s College in Oxford – this time on cobblestones not bricks.

This is my senior year, but since I was gone all last year, being back on campus gives me a sense of newness and change. I’m still familiar with the general functions of the College, but I’m starting from the beginning with what makes William Jewell a college – the people. Half the college I’ve never seen before. Plus, I sometimes feel like other students think I’m either a first-year or one of those non-traditional types that don’t attend full-time.

Now, by the time I fully immerse myself in college life again, it will almost be time for me to march my last march around the Quad. 

 Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Times, they are a changin’

I’m at a slight loss about what to write about, which is amazing because multitudinous things have happened in the past few weeks. Among the least of them are:

1.) I packed up all (well, most) of my worldly possessions, loaded a Penske truck and Explorer – so as not to endanger others, I left the moving van driving to my step-dad, and moved back to Liberty.

• Thoughts: It’s a very odd sensation not to have a room in your parent’s house anymore. My room is now the guest bedroom. Of course, I’ll always have a place to stay, but this move feels like the final transition to being on my own.

2.) I’m living off-campus in my first apartment.

• Thoughts: I really like living on my own. Aside from physically moving in and unpacking, I’ve enjoyed arranging and decorating my own space. It’s great to have a place to think, develop a routine, and – one of my favorites – cook in my own little kitchen.

However, there is a downside to all of this “on my own” business. I’m beginning to feel completely inept in some aspects of being an adult. Moving into an apartment involves so much more than arranging furniture and hanging curtains. The previous tenant was on tumultuous terms with various companies, racking up hefty bills then leaving them unpaid. When we pulled up to unload the van, KCP&L had just arrived to shut off my electricity due to previous bill paying delinquency. I was oblivious to the necessity of switching amenities into my name. It took about a week for me to have gas, hot water, electricity, access to my mailbox, and Internet (that I wasn’t stealing from my neighbors).

Needless to say, this has been a good, eye-opening experience. My parents graciously and generously continue to assist my transition in multiple ways, but I’m now more alert to the costs of being an adult.

3.) My last semester at Jewell starts on Monday!

• Thoughts: For the most part, I’m excited about graduating from college. I have an extreme sense of accomplishment, but with that feeling of sweet finality also comes the reality of change.

I’ve never been the smoothest operator when it comes to change, even when I know the ins and outs of the modification being made. And now, to be honest, the change is rather ambiguous. I don’t know what I want to do after I graduate. Do I stay in the Kansas City area, a place I’ve grown to enjoy, or move back to Southern California, with its many perks like family and a coastline? Do I pursue food journalism, which combines two of my strengths, or do I pursue an unexpected and more creative route like photography?

Only time and prayer will reveal the direction I should head. I’m just hoping to always be in tune to the still small voice that will probably whisper the answers. 

 Wednesday, August 6, 2008

Notes From The Green Mountains

My tires squish into the soft sand, leaving a gentle wave pattern among loose gravel and small pebbles. On my right, a lush wall of towering green rises in tandem with the hill’s incline. On my left, a source of water (its size somewhere between a stream and a river) swells occasionally as it rolls over a rocky bottom. I glance down at the yellow sheet of paper attached to the front of my bike.

Two miles on Green Mountain Turnpike are just about up, so I search the directions for my next move – TURN LEFT at intersection (do not go straight ahead over railroad tracks) and follow old, wooden, orange and black sign for “Bartonsville.” You will immediately pass a long red barn on the right. Road can be in poor shape as you pass through this farm (the only “poor” part of this road ended up to be the occasional cow patty).

I am careful to make the appropriate turn. The aforementioned sign must no longer be posted, but I can see the large barn across the field and railroad tracks (which I avoid by turning) up ahead. Thus far I haven’t noticed the steady uphill my bike and I have been climbing. With the directions reminding me of the practical aspects of biking from inn to inn in rural Vermont (courtesy of Bike Vermont), my mind wanders to other parts of this adventure that are, shall I say, a bit unsavory.

Now that I’m not distracted by covered bridges, grazing cattle, and quaint towns doting the countryside, most prominent in my mind are the burning thighs and bruised ischium that come with riding a bike 30 miles a day amid the varied landscape of New England. Yesterday, after painfully panting all the way up a steep hill in the lowest gear feasible, I had one of our leaders tilt my seat back a bit. This adjustment not only kept me from pitching forward over my handlebars, it also (somehow) took pressure off my sore bum bones making for a much more enjoyable ride – plus, I had time to catch my breath while Heather fiddled with seat positioning and alignment. 

  Wednesday, July 23, 2008 

… and on your right is the Pacific Ocean.

The only thing better than being shown a city by a native (see last post) is bestowing that gift on someone else. On multiple occasions I have been a recipient of that sight seeing advantage, and now, I am able to give back.

Due to my position as the morning donut girl at my place of summer employ (The Donut Man), I can’t go to church on Sunday, which really bums me out. On the bright side, my church-excluding schedule got me involved in Shelter, my church’s college ministry. Because Shelter meets at night, I’m able to fellowship with students my age AND still rise and shine at 5:30 every morning.

I met Natasha my first night at Shelter. She was eager to hear about my adventures abroad and I was eager to find a fellow newbie. An engineering student from a small town outside of Moscow, Natasha takes full advantage of her own opportunities for overseas explorations. Obtaining a visa in Russia is not an easy task, unless you’re a student. For three years running, Natasha has lived in America during her summer vacation – working various jobs (Hardees in Tennessee and waitressing at a catfish restaurant in Florida) and absorbing the culture.

After her job in Utah fell through for this summer, Natasha’s dad contacted a family friend he hadn’t spoken with in ten years who lives on the West Coast. Fast forward a few months and here we find each other – she living with a long lost connection in Glendora, CA for three months, me staying at home for a few months before heading to Jewell again, both going to Cornerstone Bible Church’s college group.

When we first met, Natasha hadn’t found a job, hadn’t eaten at In-N-Out, and hadn’t been to the beach – a killer combination of California have-nots. Since then, a few friends and I have made sure she got the full treatment. We started small: lunch at In-N-Out (including milkshakes), a climb up the big tree at Big Tree Park, a joy ride around town. I was able to connect her with Jim, the Donut Man, and she became the new peach-peeling (for the fresh peach donuts) DM employee.

Our adventures then progressed further a field. We did a double-whammy a few weeks ago that included the Walk of Fame in Hollywood, a LONG drive to Santa Monica via Sunset Blvd, a midnight view of the ocean, and a jaunt along Third Street Promenade (a pedestrian only shopping area in Santa Monica). Since I was driving on these excursions, the adventure part of the equation was increased exponentially.

The coolest thing about getting to play tour guide for Natasha hasn’t been showing her around my hometown, but rediscovering my hometown (and home-state for that matter) and the places I’ve taken for granted for myself. I’ve come out of the process more thankful for Southern California and the opportunities around me.

 Tuesday, July 8, 2008

Tour Guide

Getting lost among the zig-zag of ivy covered bridges in Venice, holding up the Leaning Tower of Pisa (if only by optical illusion), and running into random ruins around every corner in Rome are memories I have imbedded in my conscious after a semester in Italy. These experiences conger fond recollections for me, but I can’t say they are the most unique occurrences. Many people have gotten turned around amidst the canals in the car-less city of Venice (Rick Steves even suggests it as a good daytime activity – of course, I had to lose my way at night…) and I had to wait for multiple other day-trippers to vacate the picture perfect spot in Pisa.

On the aforementioned excursions, I was part of the masses, one tourist of millions, doing the typical thing. I did acquire an individual reaction from these common adventures, certainly, but nothing was intrinsically Italian about them. My most authentic Italian experiences were had while I was with my host sister, Azzurra.

Azzurra works an office job in a suburb of Rome, coming home for weekends and the occasional mid-week meal. She is a pretty twenty-four-year-old who is incredibly Italian. Her revealing gestures, telling facial expressions, and emotive voice could communicate almost any story and have me rolling with laughter despite the language barrier.

My first Sunday in Tuscania, I agreed to go ‘in giro’ (around town) with Azzurra. Fresh of the plane and with limited Italian skills, I vaguely understood that we would be going near ‘il mare’ (the sea). We picked up one of her childhood friends and hit the road. Andrea drove, Azzurra talked to Andrea, and I sat in the back seat anxiously wondering where we were going. I was slightly alarmed when I heard Siena come up in the conversation because it was already 7 pm and I had my first day of school the next day.

Turns out, we were headed toward a seaside village for hot chocolate. With umbrellas to shield us from the constant drizzle, we walked along the shore and meandered through the crowds enjoying a small open-air (and wet) market. My fears of the unknown were pacified and we made it home in time for dinner.

I had several similar adventures with Azzurra throughout the semester, often involving a ride ‘in giro’ to the sea. It thus seemed very fitting that I would spend my last weekend in Italy with her and Andrea – the two people that took me on my first Italian adventure. It was eerily familiar. We dropped Loredana, my host mom, off at her folks house in Montalto, drove by the sea (which was again obscured by a hazy drizzle), and picked up Andrea. However, instead of going to the beach, we headed to a peaceful, Tuscan village set atop a hill. After a brief survey of patchwork fields below, we capped off the event with a culinary treat. Unlike the sweet drink of our first excursion, this trip lead to a more savory indulgence: a hearty panini made of thickly sliced white bread, thin strips of salty cingiale (wild boar) prosciutto (a dry, cured meat), and a generous portion of some mild, soft cheese.

To me, these trips represent what true Italian life is all about – appreciation of the simple pleasures in life.

 Thursday, June 27, 2008

Donut Man Wisdom

I work for the Donut Man. The Donut Man is James Nakano – but everybody, including Elvis and Roy Rogers, calls this king of doughy goodness Jim. My American-born Japanese boss spent part of his childhood in a relocation camp during World War II and then went on to serve our country in the military before opening up shop in 1972. Jim has perfected the winning combination of yeasty, nutmeg flecked fried dough and thick, sweet glaze, earning him the much-deserved 2nd place spot in Southern California’s Top Ten Doughnut hit list.

Not only does The Donut Man serve up ¾ pound apple fritters, melt-in-your-mouth French Crullers, and the best cherry glazed cake doughnuts around, but Jim is also the originator of the Fresh Strawberry or Peach Doughnut. During the summer months when the fruit is in season, pillowy raised-glazed doughnuts are slit and mounded high with fresh strawberries or peaches shining with a fruit glaze. These behemoths are a meal in themselves and should be eaten with a fork to avoid pink or yellow clothing stains from oozing sauce.

Aside from cool perks like free doughnuts while on shift and tips, working at the Donut Man has given me a glimpse into life and mind of a hard working man who is passionate about what he does. Jim has specific ideas about how to achieve goals and when he’s not playfully ribbing me about my height, he is more than willing to share these insights.

During a recent lull in the morning rush, Jim was encouraging me to apply for a teacher’s aid position in Moka, my hometown’s sister city in Japan. Not only would I get a salary and an awesome experience, Jim thought it would be a great opportunity to market some food writing to various local newspapers. Although I don’t foresee myself winging off to Asia any time soon (for one, teaching is definitely not my gift), the idea reinforced a principle that I’ve tried to adopt throughout my education: make every experience an opportunity for double benefits.

Jim knows I’m interested in food writing for a career, so he was suggesting a way to milk multiple benefits out of a singularly good opportunity – a way to gain career experience as well as life experience. I think it’s a great way to approach any opportunity. As a college student, studying abroad is an easily accessible venue for such opportunities. Studying abroad is a great opportunity in itself – introduction to new cultures, people, places, and academics – but with the endless (and diverse) programs available, it’s easy to add more to the list of advantages.

Since you’re getting school credit, look for classes relating to your career field or general interests. Are you interested in electronic communication or web design? Work with your university to create an online forum for past, present, and future study abroad students. Pitch travel, advice, or special interest columns to local newspapers to get your name and writing on the market.

Jim’s advice isn’t a new concept. Many people calculate the bonus experience factor into all of their opportunity equations instinctively. But with graduation approaching, I appreciated the reminder and the source from which it came – I really do have a sweet job. 

 Wednesday, June 18, 2008 

Two Seasons

Not only do May and June mark the beginning of summer, they also usher in two seasons that keep weekend venues booked and floral dresses on the racks. May is dotted with graduation after graduation, ecstatic students flinging caps and racing to get their real diploma after the ceremony. This newfound freedom seems to frighten many people into immediately reversing their liberated state. The wedding season effortlessly slips in behind the last few graduation ceremonies, extenuating the months of celebration a bit longer.

Since I only just completed my junior year of college, I’m not quite old enough for the full-fledged ‘seasons’ initiation. Instead of people getting hitched, I have friends going to Africa (Lucy Akins) and working full-time. I did, however, attend a graduation party that sent my mind on the big spin about my own impending college finale.

My aunt went back to school after a thirty-year hiatus to finish an Associates Degree. Aside from the pride I felt, her graduation made me think about the end quickly approaching for my time at Jewell. Despite spending a year abroad, I’m finishing up a semester early – which means, in six months, I’ll be a college graduate.

I try not to dwell on all the implications of that last sentence; the fact that I’ll have to find a decent job and the fact that I’ll have to start paying for things like insurance being the two most troublesome. But really, it’s the less practical implications that freak me out: My room at home is going to be a guest bedroom. Most of my friends will still be enjoying school at Jewell. I’ll need to establish myself in society without the ‘student’comfort zone. Plus, there’s always the fact that such a big milestone also comes with major decision-making – something I’ve never been too fond of.

At least I’ll be able to sing along with Alice Cooper and not feel guilty for lying – “School’s out for summer, school’s out forever…” 

 Wednesday, June 12, 2008 

Postmarked

Traditionally speaking, my artistic ability has always been rather limited. Depending on how my lucky patrons (mostly my very kind and appreciative mother) decided to view things, my drawings were either really thrilled about life or perpetually facing forward – even if their body wasn’t. No matter what I drew or how I drew it, the circle I called a head was, without fail, drawn with two dots for eyes and a full “U” smile.

I’d like to say that I grew out of this unusual sense of aesthetics, but my abilities are still sadly juvenile. I mean, I did begin to excel at making my name look attractive in block letters and decorating chemistry notes with flowers, swirls, and such; however, those delightful touches aren’t always considered art.

All this considered, I’m not quite sure why I enrolled in Tuscania Sketchbook last semester. Oh, yes I do – I was hoping that the soft breeze I pictured rolling along the hills of Tuscany, scented with sun-ripened fruit and wild jasmine would somehow resurrect some sort of slumbering skill. Instead, the harsh North winds (tramontana) that whip through Tuscania only stirred up the frustrating reality that my skill is more lacking than hidden.

My first attempts to sketch the curved streets and windowed structures around town were utterly abysmal. The proportions were all off and perspective – what’s that? Thankfully, Carlos, my incredibly patient instructor, was able to prod improvement out of me, one architectural detail at a time.

By the end of the semester, I had a growing portfolio (amateur at best) and an appreciation for sketching. From abroad, I used this newfound hobby to participate in Postmarked, an annual mail art exhibition and silent auction fundraiser for The Claremont Forum’s Prison Library Project (check out their blog - http://postmarkedmailart.blogspot.com). I sketched and tinted two envelopes, postmarked them from Tuscania, and then hoped for the best with the Italian postal system.

Last weekend was the exhibit and silent auction. Despite feeling slightly embarrassed at my efforts compared to some of the other submissions, it was neat to roam the gallery (the blog includes pictures of at least one submission from every artist). Submissions came in all shapes, sizes, and mediums – someone even sent a large rock through the mail. I’ve already got ideas brewing for next year!

 Wednesday, June 4, 2008

Oxford Loyalty

One of the best things about my trip to Switzerland was the amount of non-stressful, non-touristy leisure time I had. I employed these extra hours with guilt free reading. My literary endeavors averaged out to be a book per location. I borrowed a book from Becca for the three days in Bern – Notes From A Small Island by Bill Bryson.

Bryson, a travel writer and humorist, embarked on a farewell tour of England before returning to his native Iowa. The book is comprised of his observations about the people, places, and things he encountered. While I was reading in the park near our hotel in Bern, I arrived at Bryson’s commentary on Oxford.

Up to this point I noticed his style revolved around negative quips and (sometimes) insultingly witty remarks about the nouns he faces. I find this endless stream of criticism rather tiresome and no way to endear a reader to any particular location; although, I must admit – sometimes I find his use of a few off-color words hilariously well timed. So, when he began the section on Oxford with a list of “certain things that you have to be British, or at least older than [him], or possibly both, to appreciate…” my sense of loyalty flared up.

Not only did I spend a lovely 10 weeks studying in the academic capital of the world, I just could not agree with his assertions about a few Oxford landmarks. Namely, that Cornmarket Street was “truly hideous,” Westgate Shopping Center and the Central Library (which I lived near) were “heartless” and “unadorable,” and Oriel Square a mere “jumble of abandoned vehicles.” After this rant about what made Oxford “so ugly,” Bryson devotes less than a paragraph to what he deems the only specks of beauty on an unsightly cityscape.

In addition to the list’s brevity, it left off tons of Oxford’s highlights like the tree lined Botley Road, the congenial bustle and great sweet treats at G & D’s, and the beautiful grounds of St. Johns College – to name a few. These injustices caused me to contemplate all the wonderful things about Oxford that I experienced as well as the ones I didn’t.

A small sense of regret at all the hours I spent sitting on my bed reading or Googling something insignificant instead of going to the Ashmolean Museum, eating at Lamb and Flag (a favorite pub of C.S. Lewis’), or exploring Cowley Road started to creep into my mind. Yes, those hours of reading were a necessity, but, I could have spent them sipping a coffee in Blackwells or out of doors at least. I hate to think I took any part of my Oxford experience for granted; but looking back, I can’t help but feel I didn’t make the most of it.

I processed all these thoughts lying awake in my hotel room – the folks above us had decided to do some midnight Feng Shui adjustments. Instead of endlessly berating myself for missed chances to “experience” things in Oxford, I concluded that this mindset was only the product of wisdom gained from a second study abroad experience; a second chance, per se, to make the most of where I was.

In Italy, I had the choice to read in the park instead of in my room. I had the choice to make friends with the locals instead of watching movies on my laptop. I had the choice to integrate into Tuscanian life or be a separate American entity. Without being consciously aware of these choices, I’m pleased to say I generally chose wisely while in Italy. I realize when I’m lying awake in the comfort of my own bed, surrounded by the soothing hue of my light-blue walls, I’ll be kicking myself for the one time I watched “The Holiday” instead of meeting friends for coffee or facebook stalked Jewell kids instead of walking around Tuscania.

But hey, what is my jet-lagged mind supposed to think about during those frustrating hours of sleeplessness while I adjust to Pacific Daylight Time zone, let alone America?

 Wednesday, May 27, 2008 

Buon Viaggio

To kick-start my summer vacation, I spent a week traveling around my favorite foreign country: Switzerland. My first Swiss experience was last semester. I met up with my brother’s girlfriend, who was in Montreux on a business trip, for a six-day tour in early November. Since I was in charge of planning this last European foorah (Becca, my traveling companion readily admits a deep aversion for anything logistics related), I was quick to formulate an itinerary around new and familiar spots in Switzerland.

Both Becca and I were looking for a mellow, non-touristy type excursion so I plotted accordingly. Here is a rough outline:

• Day One – Fly to Geneva. Settle in at City Hostel. Sunset on Lac Leman (aka Lake Geneva).
• Day Two – Play a two-hour game of life-size checkers (I won…) Explore a three-story toy store, Franz Carl Weber. Get lost among the riotous blooms in Parc La Grange.
• Day Three – Train to Lauterbrunnen (20 minutes from Interlaken). Settle in at Valley Hostel. Admire the sheer majesty of mountains, cows, and wildflowers.
• Day Four – Breakfast at German Bakery. Cable car to Grutschalp. Hike up to Murren (this is where things I began to experience the odd sensation of having things in a foreign country look familiar. Angie and I had done this same hike…) then down to Gimmelwald, Stechelberg, Trummelback Falle (waterfalls inside the mountain) and back to Lauterbrunnen.
• Day Five - Wake up incredibly sore. Walk three hours to Wilderswill, 2/3rds of the way to Interlaken. Train to Bern. Collapse onto down comforter in Hotel-Pension Marthahaus.
• Day Six – Shop. Visit the two Pyrenean brown bears at the Baregarten. Take in aerial view of Bern from Rosengarten.
• Day Seven – Discover that virtually EVERYTHING is closed in Bern on Sundays. Walk around. Thoroughly explore every inch of “Rail City” (the mini mall housed in the train station was the only thing open). Plot how to crash the Midnight Feng Shui Convention being held on the floor above ours.
• Day Eight – Last minute H & M purchase. Train to Geneva Airport. Fly to Rome Ciampino. Bus to train station. Train to Roma Termini. Train to Civitavecchia. Kind Italian friend drives us back to Tuscania.

Despite some uncharacteristically gloomy weather, the trip was wonderful. I read two books –

1. Object of Virtue by: Nicholas B.A. Nicholson; a novel about Sasha, a Faberge and Russian art expert who works at Leighton’s, a famous New York auction house. Sasha is also a Russian Prince and the newest item up for bid has a family history. He is thrown into a frosty mix of forgery and secrecy.
2. Notes From A Small Island by: Bill Bryson; a well-known travel writer and humorist expounds on the UK during a farewell jaunt around the country he lived in for twenty years (more thoughts on this book in the next post).

Now I’m wrapping up the (multiplying) loose ends here in Tuscania before flying back to America tomorrow. It’s an odd sensation – one that is going to take some getting used to.

 Thursday, May 15, 2008  

The Great Divide

I’ve only done the splits once. I was trying out for the pep squad my junior year of high school. The extra adrenaline heating up my body must have given my limbs some supernatural flexibility. Normally I can’t touch my toes. Any sort of stretching movement makes me look like a gangly giant (I blame my meter-and-a-half long legs…).

But now, as I near the end of my study abroad adventure, I think the Italian air is loosening up my joints again. I feel like I’m doing the splits over the Atlantic Ocean – one toe planted in America and one firmly rooted in Europe.

For a few weeks now, visions of family, In-N-Out Burger, and a couch have been dancing through my head. The idea of a semi-permanent residence is so tantalizing. I’ll be able to drive Mr. Knightley (my black Explorer, fondly named after my favorite Austen gentleman) and eat dinner at 5 pm.

On the other hand, during my normal Tuscania routine, I am inundated with “last times.” Today was my last Nutella pizza at Riuscello. Becca and I had our last Monday Dolce Vita date this week. I read my Italian Lit book in the park for the last time. Pretty soon it will be my last day in Italy.

I find it hard to stay focused on the time that I have left in Italy instead of all the things I will be doing when I get back to Southern California. I need to find a job (preferably close to my house due to the exorbitant gas prices), start working on my Honors Project, help organize the garage – and enjoy the summer at home before heading back to KC.

Alessio, one of our Italian friends, can’t figure out why we are all so consumed with the dwindling time we have left. He keeps reminding us to soak up all that we can in the last few days instead of wasting this precious time worrying it away. Good advice that I’m trying to implement – which is why I’m heading off to watch the sunset from San Pietro right now.  

 Tuesday, April 29, 2008 

List Making Merriment

I know I’ve mentioned my propensity towards list making in pervious posts, but I would have been a fool to think this particular personality quirk wouldn’t pop up again. It’s too much of an integral part of my mental processes to disappear for long – especially when important or milestone-ish things are creeping slowly into the forefront of my consciousness. As the conclusion of my semester in Italy (and year abroad) draws closer, at an alarmingly rapid pace, I have begun to seek the satisfying solace of list making.

There is something methodical and gratifying about constructing and completing a list; and then there’s the deliciously satisfying feeling of accomplishment as you tick off want-to-dos, need-to-dos, and should-dos one by one. After many years of this past time, I believe crafting a successful list is a true art form.

It’s important to set parameters before starting a list – Is this an afternoon list, a two-day list, or a wildest dream list? Also, a certain balance must be achieved between the items on the list so you can start crossing off, checking, or circling completed items straight away. For example: On a list of “To do on Wednesday,” I might write ‘shower’ or ‘bring camera to cooking class’ beside ‘plan trip to Florence’ and ‘write literature paper.’ Including the obvious lightens the daunting difficulty of other, more obscure items, allowing the immediate satisfaction of seeing the items diminish.

Half the fun for me is creating the list, so I spend time making it aesthetically pleasing: pretty paper, color-coding, and fancy fonts. This, of course, is optional and novice listers should probably stick to old favorites like legal pads or post-its. The meat of a list is individual; a personalized compendium of goals, reminders, errands, etc. Themes – What to accomplish over Spring Break, Recipes to try from Paula Deen’s new cookbook, Places to go before turning fifty – are sometimes helpful but not necessary.

With all of these guidelines in mind, I began making a list for my last three weeks in Italy. It’s one of those running lists, a large empty spot after the last item just begging for a new addition.
Here is what I have so far:

To Do ~ Last Three Weeks in Italy

• Walk within the walls of Tuscania for 30 minutes every day
• Visit the Vatican
• Try every pastry at Dolce Vita – I’m close…
• Plan a 7-day trip to Switzerland
• Lunch at Alfreda’s
• Read in the park
• Gelato once a week, at least
• Find a gift for Giordano, my amazingly generous cooking professor
• Write literature paper about Pirandello
• Look for a summer job
• Carry camera at all times
• Document meals for reconstruction at home
• Dinner at Sette Cannelle
• Buy souvenirs
• Eat more pears

 Tuesday, April 22, 2008 

Living Literature

Sharing a last name with two history encyclopedias (my brother and grandpa), listening to Denzel Washington’s out-of-breath, yet heartfelt, speech to rally together his segregated team members, and watching Gone With The Wind did little to bring the Civil War closer to my twenty-first century life. It wasn’t until I stepped onto a bleak, undeveloped portion of the battlefield in Gettysburg that reality sunk in. On that morning, as I made footprints in the damp grass, once saturated with blood, the Civil War became a fact instead of a distant piece of America’s past.

I don’t consider myself one of those people who has to “do” to learn; but, there is something permanent and vivid about being physically and visually aware of a concept usually experienced through scholarly pursuits like reading and lectures. I think that’s why a favorite elementary school fieldtrip was going to Willowbrook Farm in Oak Glen, CA. Workers dressed in period costume, demonstrating how to spin wool and make apple cider.

The appeal of living history also applies to my other studies. I’m an English major because molding and manipulating the English language is stimulating to me. I’ve never been fond of analyzing literature. And yet, I chose to spend a semester in Oxford studying two major British authors and am now immersed in the masterpieces of Italian literature. Scholastically, the most rewarding part of my study abroad experience has been connecting the plots, setting, and people in a tangible way – living the literature.

Discussing Austen’s roll as both social historian and social critic in Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility by no means a chore. However, dancing around the empty Assembly Rooms in Bath, picturing a reserved Anne Elliot amidst the swarm of society and rambling around the lush gardens of Chatsworth Hosue imagining Mr. Darcy trying to escape the fine eyes of a certain Bennet sister, connected Austen’s words to my life.

I had a similar experience this last weekend while in Venice. Britney Holtgrewe, a friend from Jewell who has been studying in Nantes, met me for a two-day rendezvous in the city of Murano glass, gondolas, and pigeons. Venice is also the birthplace of Carlo Goldoni, a playwright whose works I just so happen to be reading in my Italian literature class. We stumbled upon the Teatro Goldoni on Friday night, after getting a bit turned around amidst the skinny alleys and bridges criss-crossing through the city. It’s easier to envision actors clad in elaborate masks performing “The Servant of Two Masters,” once you spend time in the city that inspired him.

 Wedesday, April 16, 2008 

Ponderations

During the past week – when I wasn’t hiking in the hills of Assisi, reading for pleasure, or eating tasty Umbrian cuisine – my mind has been grazing in the fertile field of memories from my Fall semester in Oxford. I think it was a combination of two things that gave my active herd of a brain an appetite for such reflections:

1. I registered for my last semester in college on April 4th, which required me to map out my schedule (although, I’m the type of person who creates “tentative four year plans” for fun so I already had some ideas in mind); thus causing me to retrace my journey through Jewell.
2. Spending the past 10 days with my parents brought my “other” world into view again (not a bad thing, actually). As I began to process what the next season of my life might hold, I couldn’t help but ponder how my two study abroad experiences have shaped my outlook.

I haven’t quite come out on the other side of that ponderation (I do believe I made that word up just now) but the comparison of my two study abroad programs was an interesting study. Here is a small chart to help visualize the differences.

These two programs are worlds apart in focus and function and have impacted me in vastly different ways; however, I wouldn’t have reaped the benefits of either experience without having completed or been anticipating the other.

Bottom line: Make room in your college years for studying abroad. Spend time looking for a program that enhances your goals and fits who you are as a person. Think about doing more than one type of study abroad experience. Get out of your box and just go for it!

 Wedesday, April 9, 2008 

Translation, please

My parents arrived Friday. After a rather nauseating minibus ride down to Rome (with the LdM Rome students who were in Tuscania for a field trip), me and Machiavelli settled into an armchair in the lobby of our hotel. My location gave me a prime view of the approaching buses and taxis. It was a bit difficult to concentrate on The Prince when I always had one eye on the window, on the look out for familiar faces. Needless to say, I was pretty excited to see my family (and the prospect of dipping into a fresh jar of JIF peanut butter – extra crunchy!). Plans for an international meeting with my mom last semester were unexpectedly cancelled, so the reality of this trip had been long anticipated.

Their stay in Italy is only half over (two more days in Tuscania and then the weekend in Assisi are still on the itinerary), but it has already been quite the experience. We spent the weekend doing a bit of wandering and lots of gelato eating in Rome. In order not to be constrained by public transportation of all sorts, we rented a car on Monday.

From our hotel on Via Nazionale, a main street in the center of the city, we zipped in and out of motorcycles, were flung into round abouts, and one way roads - all in search of the grand loop of highway that circumnavigates Rome. I sat buckled into the back seat, sending silent prayers for safety heavenward. My mom was anxiously trying to stem the tide of tears and nausea that had bombarded her the instant we started moving. Greg, my step-dad and designated driver for this excursion, valiantly kept road rage at bay while following the directions being projected loudly from our new GPS system.

“In three hundred meters keep straight and take the third right…keep straight, EXIT NOW.”

After the most tense two hours of my life, we arrived in Tuscania, physically all in one piece. My next obstacle was translating and interpreting for my parents and my host family. Even though I’m not the most adept person linguistically, I’ve been pleased with my progress in Italian. My ability to communicate, although slightly childlike in style and content, has become more fluid over the past two months.

I don’t think being a professional translator is my future calling, but things have been going smoother than expected. I did have a small faux pas with “porcupine.” It’s pork-u-speenay not pork-you-peen-ay…

 Tuesesday, April 1, 2008

An American in Paris

Just when I finally reached a comfortable level of Italian conversation ability, Easter break threw my brain into a linguistic jumble. Kristina Brase, a good friend and fellow Jewell student studying in Rome this semester, and Becca, an Ohio University student also studying in Tuscania, joined me for a 10 day holiday in France.

My tongue has never been so twisted and tied. I said “si” when I should have said “oui,” “grazie mille” when I should have automatically responded “merci beaucoup!” I had a hard time falling asleep one night before we left because I couldn’t for the life of me remember how to say please in French. Per favore was the only foreign phrase coming to mind (it’s “si-vous-plait,” just in case your 3 semesters of French left you completely blank as well.)

We spent four days in Paris ~ not nearly enough to see all of what the city has to offer. Paris felt more open and sprawling than Rome. If you could characterize Rome as the city of random ruins, Paris would be the city of random gardens. Despite the cold and overcast weather, Paris was still in bloom with riotous displays of multi-colored flowers. Rome is full of rustic historical charm, but I think I prefer the elegance and refinement that Paris exudes. Other than just wandering the wide streets lined with wooden stalls of old books, vintage posters, and beautiful paintings, The Eiffel Tower and Musée d’Orsay were my Paris highlights.

From every angle and every time of day, the iconic symbol of Paris lives up to the hype. My first glimpse of the Eiffel Tower was on the bus ride into the city from Beauvais airport. We climbed the 700 steps to the second platform the next day. It truly is monumental and when it sparkles…stunning! I liked the Musée d’Orsay because it houses a large collection of Impressionist work from Degas, Renoir, Monet, Manet, Sisley, Van Gogh, etc. I particularly liked one Monet that was displayed next to florals by Manet and Sisley – a hunk of raw meat (a t-bone I think) with a large clove of garlic sitting innocently in the corner. The contrast between Monet’s characteristic soft stroke and the rather visceral subject was comical and unexpected – plus, I tend to like all things food related.

An overnight train whisked us away to the French Riviera on Wednesday. Our amazing hostel (Villa Saint Exupery in Nice) was centrally located and had daytrips already completely mapped out for you. The morning we arrived we hung around the old town in Nice, taking in the sights and scents of the daily flower market. Huge tents full of fresh blooms lined one side of the street. On the other side, baskets full of spices and tea, brightly colored soaps, and pastries, produce, and meats to please any gourmand spilled out from under striped awnings.

The last two days on the Cote d’Azur were spent traveling between Antibes, Cannes, Eze, and Monaco. I didn’t care much for Cannes or Monaco, although Cannes had the best beach. Both cities were saturated with wealth and not much else. Antibes was a pleasant mixture of Riviera life – sand, yachts, boutiques – without the commercial overtone of the other tourist towns. Eze was a tiny village set onto a steep hill overlooking the coast. Tiny alleys wind up to the summit where an exotic cactus garden tumbles down over the side and wraps its way back down to the base.

A 10 am – 10 pm travel day on the railways landed me back in Tuscania yesterday, now struggling to transition my meager French back to Italian. I fell asleep swaying to a non-existent train, repeating the Italian alphabet – ah, bi, chi, de, ay, effe…  

 Tuesday, March 18, 2008

La Vita Tuscania

The last couple of weeks in Tuscania were a pleasant blend of cultural and academic activities. My days here seem to have reached a happy level of familiarity and routine mixed with enough cultural surprises and shocks to keep things interesting. Here are a few snapshots from Tuscania to give you an idea of what I mean:

When I think of European sports, I think of football; soccer, that is, for Americans and calcio (cal – chi - o) for Italians. And it comes to mind rightfully so. Football is extremely popular, with rivalries tearing apart families (you think I’m joking…), starting riots, and generating tremendous loyalty. Basketball, on the other hand, is virtually unknown aside from a few regional leagues. Marco, our student advisor, happens to play in one of these local leagues. Unbeknownst to him, we found this out and decided to show our support.

A small contingent of us showed up at a Tuscania Ghosts’ game decked out in green and white, with large signs proclaiming “VAI (go) TUSCANIA” and “BU” (ghosts don’t say Boo in Italy because that would be pronounced ‘beau’) in tow. To our utter astonishment, we (5 people) were the majority of the crowd. Regardless, we had fun yelling at the refs, who couldn’t understand us anyways, and trying to get the other onlookers (two old men) to do the wave with us. The language barrier apparently doesn’t apply to enthusiasm, because the team responded to our antics and won the game. Come to think of it, the only games they’ve won are the ones where we’ve been cheering them on.

I had my favorite cooking lesson on Wednesday: pastry! Instead of cooking in the stainless-steel environment of the school kitchen, class was held in the rustic yet commercial work space of Voglia di Pane, our professor’s bakery. The menu – dulci and more dulci.

Giordano showed us how to make a basic sweet pastry dough, which we then transformed into crostadas and various types of biscotti. Italy is on the metric system so there were no measuring cups in sight. Ingredients (eggs, butter, sugar, baking powder, and flour) were weighed in grams on an industrial sized kitchen scale. I’ll admit, there was quite a bit of dough consumed before it could become little circles dusted with sugar or small rounds filled with jam. Giordano even let us get creative with the latticework on top of the crostadas.

Last week, I learned what you can’t do when there is no water. The main water pipe for Tuscania decided to combust overnight, causing flooding outside the walls of historic Tuscania. Major trenches were dug and work began. I though this was a temporary problem until people started to reinforce their water supply (reminiscent of Y2K…)

The prognosis – three days with no water for the whole city; and in Italy, that means five days. No water to drink (other than bottled). No water to flush the toilet. No water to wash hands or dirty dishes. No water to take a shower. No water to cook with. No water to keep plants alive. I brushed my teeth and washed my face with fizzy mineral water – a sparkling experience I can assure you.

I was lamenting the fact that I had decided to postpone my morning shower until after class… I’ve never been more conscious of how much I use water and why I use it. On my way home from class that night, I could see a yellow glow lighting the trenches where men were still working. And they worked all night, because when I woke up the next morning, my host mom happily announced – “abbiamo l’acqua” we have water! 

 Tuesday, March 11, 2008 

Midterm Madness

It’s been raining – a lot – and I have midterms approaching. Not a great combination, however, neither malady has permanently dampened my week.

Actually, I had my first midterm on Monday. It was technically a week early, but Antonella, mia professoressa, assured the class (me and two other students) that we would thank her later when we had one less test to worry about. Seeing as my other classes are more artistically inclined and don’t really have “midterms” per se, I’m not sure I concur. Regardless, I am glad to have one down (four to go) and am also pleased to report that it went well!

The class, Masterpieces of Italian Literature, is my most traditionally scholastic class. My syllabus describes the course as an introduction to “the great writers and thinkers who have shaped Italian literature and culture over a thousand years of history.” So far, that has included a brief stint with San Francesco D’Assisi, two classes (which amounts to five hours) discussing Dante and his Divina Comedia, love according to Petrarca (ie: through his “Canzoniere” or songbook), and the life and times of Boccaccio (which weren’t always that peachy due to the Black Death in Florence…).

I’m an English major, so I’ve had my fair share of literature courses – in three countries no less! But not one of them has been typical. Dr. Dunham was Mr. I’ll put you on the spot but be very kind no matter what drivel comes out of your mouth. Dr. Watkins challenged traditions. In Oxford, I had to match wits with a linguistic genius and a fellow Austen enthusiast. This semester, I’m learning about Italian literature from a woman who could care less about structure and format.

I was thrown off guard when she went over the specifics for our midterm paper. Her rules:

• DO pick whatever author and topic you want.
• DON’T quote more than a word or two of the text. Work under the assumption that I know what you are referring to.
• DON’T research what other scholars say about your topic.
• DO use I (this probably threw me off the most).
• DO respond to the topic in a personal manner and reflect on what strikes you as significant.

Sounds like a simple assignment. And yet I found myself rather lost within the midst of all the academic freedom. I eventually settled on San Francesco D’Assisi and how his “Cantico delle Creature” is a timeless example of lyric poetry that spans multiple centuries of literary tradition. After surfacing from a brief panic where I thought I wouldn’t be able to come up with a “personal” response (yes, that is completely irrational), I wrote my reflection – drawing parallels to Song of Solomon no less!

As I was gathering up my materials after the two and a half hour written exam yesterday (I happened to be the last to finish), Antonella mentioned that she liked my essay (hooray!). My surprise at her speedy perusal must have shown on my face because she kindly assured me that it wouldn’t be her last (boo-ray…). I’m hoping my response will still seem personal enough after multiple readings. 

 Tuesday, March 4, 2008 

Transportation adventures, again?

I think transportation issues are just my lot in life.

This weekend was my first extended trip in Italy since I’ve been here. Becca, a friend I met in Tuscania who studies in Ohio, went South for the weekend. We made Sorrento our base camp and took day trips to Capri (pronounced KAH-pree), Pompeii, and Amalfi. If I haven’t mentioned it before, one of the beauties and difficulties of living in Tuscania is actually getting out of Tuscania.

We took a 7:20am bus to Viterbo, one of the two towns closest to Tuscania that have train stations. Our itinerary was as follows: Viterbo – Orte (a city Northeast of Viterbo) – Roma – Napoli. The electronic monitors were not functioning so I check the board of departures hanging on the wall. Binario 3 for Roma – perfecto! We hop on the train. A rather frantic lady asks “a Milano?” Nope, “a Roma,” we reply, but this makes me nervous. The police decide to make a random check of our documents, so as they look over my passport I inquire whether the train is heading to Rome. Turns out we were indeed heading to Milan.

Long story short, we had to get off at the next stop and catch a different train to Rome. We finally reach Rome and get settled on a train to Naples when I realize we hadn’t validated our tickets and the conductor was coming our way. This wasn’t a problem, but we did have to pay 10 extra euros because unbeknownst to us, we were on an Intercity train which cost more than a Regionale train. Good grief – there should be a Italian Transportation 411 travel guide…

It didn’t stop there. We took the Circumvesuviana, the Italian Tube for the Napoli area all the way to Sorrento when we were supposed to take it to Piano di Sorrento, a different part of town 4 km away. Eventually, at 5 pm, we did make it to our B and B.

Despite all of this, our trip was great. We did the touristy things like the Blue Grotto in Capri and Pompeii in general, but we also used our feet to explore what most people don’t make the effort to see, like Anacapri, the small town above Capri. It took us 8 hours to get back to Tuscania on Monday – and nothing went wrong!

 Wedesday, February 27, 2008

Verde Italia

Italy has joined the ranks of Kermit, my friend Gumby, and the Jolly Giant. More than any place I’ve been thus far, Italy comes the closest to truly being that envious hue most countries are trying to attain, which now signifies more than new life and nausea – green.

One of the first things I noticed about my host family (and, later, about most of the people in Tuscania) was their energy awareness. The water heater for my bathroom is around the size of a toaster oven. Unnecessary lights are always switched off. Heat is used sparingly.

During our orientation, I heard someone say that Italy buys all their energy from France because they don’t want to mar the landscape with ugly power plants. A brief perusal of Wikipedia didn’t confirm the accuracy of this assertion (however appealing it may be), but I did find out that most of the raw materials needed by industry and more than 75% of Italian energy requirements are imported.

Whether the Italians conserve energy because of some deep-rooted hippie tendencies or because importation is darn expensive, the subsequent lifestyle is both addictive and aggravating. I’ve perfected the art of a five-minute shower – complete with hair-wash (long hair I might add) and scrub down. I’ve mastered the art of layering under sweatpants to avoid turning on the heater. I’m currently working on the art of walking in the dark.

As you can see, living in Italy is all about art, and not just Renaissance and Baroque kind…

 Tuesday, February 19, 2008

A day in the life of…

Life is so very different here. The difference is not just in my life as a student abroad, but the Italian way of life as well. To address the first part of that statement, here is what a typical weekday in Tuscania looks like for me:

Monday ~

8 am: Wake up! Usually I do this naturally because I leave my window open to allow the sun to filter in, but sometimes I do need my alarm.

8:30 am: I hear Loredana (my host mom) come downstairs. She sets out my breakfast – 3 thin slices of bread, cherry jam, and a cappuccino – eats her own and then delivers an espresso to Bruno (my host dad). I always have the same mug and placemat. I’ve taken to watching cartoons (in Italian of course) after Loredana goes back upstairs because they are easier for me to understand.

9-10 am: My only class on Monday’s, Masterpieces of Italian Literature, doesn’t start until 3:30 pm, so there’s no rush to get to school. I do my devotions and then shower up. Almost everyday this part of my routine is completed to the same booming soundtrack. Apparently our neighbor has a thing for Phil Collins and Heatwave.

10:02 am: I hit the library/computer lab. It’s a short two-minute jaunt to school and I’m usually one of the first people to arrive (aside from the three students who have class at 9 am). Monday is a big email day. My inbox is always overflowing after three days of no Internet activity.

11:30 am: Ashley, Cody, and Elizabeth are now out of class and we head to Blue Eyes, our favorite pizza a la taglia (pizza by the slice) place. Most of these “by the slice” joints have large flats of pizza that they cut to order and sell by the kg. I always think I’ll just drink wate, but I can’t resist the Fanta – the orange flavor in Europe is incredible!

1 pm: Back to the computer lab to finish up leftover business. All the stores are now closed so I try to use this “siesta” time to do school work. Currently that involves reading The Inferno. I’ve tried reading in the park just down the road from school; however, the amazing views of San Pietro and the valley below Tuscania are way too distracting when I’m trying to internalize Dante…

3:30 – 6 pm: Masterpieces of Italian Literature. Two and a half hours can be a bit rough sometimes. We get coffee breaks - enough said.

6:15 – 7ish pm: Becca and I get coffee. Our favorite bar (bar = café), Il Bistrot Rifugio, is closed on Mondays so we have been going to Café Duomo. Italians don’t really linger over their coffee so we try not to stay too long, but last week we met an older fellow from Sardinia/Berlin who kept us entertained for quite a while.

8 pm: La Cena (dinner)! The later eating hours took a bit of getting used to. With the help of Nutella and breadsticks, I manage… The TV is always on during meals. CheTempCheFa, an Italian variety/talk show is our dinner program. Loredana prepares simple food that is always excellent. During the week we usually just have some type of meat sautéed in olive oil, a vegetable (the artichokes are my favorite), and salad dressed in olive oil, (it really should be its own food group) a splash of white wine vinegar, salt, and pepper. Bread is always stacked next to my plate.

10 – 11 pm: I read or finish homework before calling it a day.

I definitely can’t complain.

 Tuesday, February 12, 2008 

Gumby Girl

Already, my Italy experience has been worlds (countries, in fact) different than my previous term abroad. In retrospect, England doesn’t register too high on the adjustment scale. I learned how to ride public transportation and discovered the wonderful world of hobnobs. In Italy, on the other hand, I am completely immersed in all the aspects of a brand new culture.

I’m beginning to feel like the little green being with a rubber body that we all know and love. But the similarities are more about the stretch factor and less about transforming into a cute play-thing. Living with a family has forced me to be flexible and malleable with regards to adopting the Italian lifestyle.

With each new experience, my limbs are being pulled farther and farther away from my body, leaving a very vulnerable core exposed to the elements of (in the words of Dante, who I’m studying in Masterpieces of Italian Literature) mi vita nouva – my new life – in Tuscania. Every time I pick up a new phrase or expression, eat a new food, interact with a new friend, or visit a new place, I’m pulled even further out of the “Emily mold” I arrived in. Pretty soon I’ll have an arm in Milano and a foot in Napoli.

This stretching process is intensified by the fact that all of these new experiences are in a different language! Tuscania is enough removed from urban life that virtually no English is spoken or understood. I’m not much of a conversationalist in English (hence my love of the written word), let alone trying to communicate in a foreign language. Like last night; I was trying to politely excuse myself from the dinner table by saying that I had to read some Dante for homework. I managed “Lego Dante” (I read Dante), hoping that they would understand that I was going to do that right now. But, because I don’t know the past tense yet, they took it as a random dinner table comment.

I can only imagine the scene in America: sitting around the dinner table; it’s quiet except for the news going on the television and someone out of the blue announces that they read Dante. Well, I read Plato too, but that doesn’t give me license to break the ice with that kind of comment.

Despite all of these stretching scenarios, Gumby and I have one very important difference – I don’t think I’ll be springing back into the same shape with as much alacrity as my rubbery, green chum. My elasticity is less about staying the same and more about acquiring flexibility. I won’t return to the States packaged in the same mold. And that’s the goal.

 Monday, January 28, 2008

Ciao a Tuscania!

If I closed my eyes, I could imagine my weak knees and jolting stomach were the product of a wild rollercoaster. I wouldn’t have to see all the cars we were narrowly missing as we curved and swerved around the skinny road to Tuscania at breakneck speed. Mossimo, our van driver, certainly lived up to the Italian motorist stereotype.

Tuscania, a small, medieval Italian city is where six other students (from Ohio to Mexico) and I will be living and learning for the next three and a half months. The school, Lorenzo de Medici, is built into the walls of the historical center of town. Skinny cobblestone streets criss-cross their way through tall blocks of multi-colored buildings.

I live in one of these buildings, a short walk from the school. Bruno and Loredana Ricci, the couple who have graciously allowed me to stay in their home, are very patient with my complete lack of Italian language skills. My blank stares and apologetic shrugs are received with kind, sympathetic smiles. However, it’s frustrating for me not to be able to express my own appreciation and gratitude for their kindness. I never imagined how comforting and important communication could be to receive and to give.

My time Italy has already been worlds different than my term in Oxford and it’s only been one day. I can’t wait to see what three more months will hold!

Ciao.

 Monday, January 21, 2008

Cookie-Cutter College

I’m in a sort of no man’s land, hanging between what is typical of a junior in college and what is not so normal. On August 27th, two weeks before I left for Oxford, I was feeling the same way and characterized the sensation as being “out of place.” After completing that semester in Oxford, I would like to recharacterize that sensation.

The feeling is more one of amazement and incredulity that more people don’t take every opportunity to tailor their education to best suit themselves and their goals. One of the coolest things about William Jewell is that it really lives up to its “Liberal Arts” label. Jewell emphasizes taking an individual approach to learning and harnessing the opportunities therein. I’m not just talking about studying abroad sometime during those fast four years either.

I just got back from a short trip to Kansas City. Family and friends I hadn’t seen in seven months were the main draw but I also needed to meet with my academic advisor to make sure all was in order for my December 2008 graduation. Amidst the talk of general education (I guess I should call it CTI, but it’s still Gen Ed to me…) requirements and fall scheduling, I was able to bounce a few ideas around for an honors project and an art minor that you probably wouldn’t find in the course catalog.

Everyone’s excitement and willingness to work with me and my not so normal ideas reminded me how lucky I am to attend a school where individual education is valued and encouraged. Yes, my junior year is atypical partly because I made purposeful decisions to not have a cookie-cutter college experience, but also because the college I attend supports and encourages those decisions.

So, exactly one week from today, I will be flying to Italy for one more semester abroad. The program isn’t affiliated with Jewell, but because I made the effort and Jewell was more than willing to work with me, I’m spending my second to last semester in college living and learning in Tuscania, Italy.