Surviving the First Week of Classes

After Greece, I wanted to collapse (especially after that insane ferry ride back). But I had to wake up and go to classes in the morning.

And so began my first week of classes here in Bologna.

Three days of the week, we have class in central Bologna, at the Jesuit center, Poggeschi. It's about a 30 minute walk from where our dorms are - we have to cross over a major bridge and walk through the heart of town in order to make it to classes. And, despite what many people say about Europe being more lax about classes here, we have to be on time to every single class. 

Monday was my first class in Environmental Ethics. However, I had overestimated the time I needed to walk to class, and found myself almost to Poggeschi that morning with two hours before class started. So I wandered off towards the Towers to find the international book store. There, I whiled away a happy hour looking at their (sadly small) English book selection, eventually purchasing copies of Fight Club and a Penguin Classics edition of The Great Gatsby. I continued walking towards Poggeschi, and met some classmates for a lunch of pizza, before class started.

Penguin Great Gatsby - because you can never have too many copies of your favorite book

Our professor for Ethics is extremely energetic - she specializes in Ancient Greek philosophy, and she hasn't taught with our program before, but she's excited to work with us all. And so she went over our assignments for the semester and told us what to expect. 

After class, my roommate and I wandered around Bologna, looking for school supplies. I then returned to Camplus, while she went back to Poggeschi for two more classes. 

Tuesday was my first day for my other two classes, Italian and Art History. Walking into Italian, I didn't really know what to expect. If anything, I was assuming that we would have a core curriculum that would match between each section, so that we would all match up for tests and other group events. What I was not expecting was the sudden influx of Italian and the random words scribbled on the board at a pace so rapid that I couldn't write them down without missing the meaning of another five. The best way to explain the method that they've been using to teach us is this: there's an old way to test if pasta is done by taking it out of the water and throwing at the wall. If the pasta sticks, then it's done. It's almost as if our professors are throwing the words at us to see if they stick, and when they do, they throw more. 

It's slightly overwhelming.

Art history, though, is probably my favorite class. Our professor started the course off by showing us clips from the film Monuments Men, which tells the story of a group of men who worked to save art in Europe before it was stolen by the Nazis during World War II. After the war ended, the men also helped to return the art to its proper place in society. Our reading for the course covers the Renaissance greats and the influence the Renaissance had in Northern Italy and France - because our two trips this semester are to Parma and to Paris. 

Throughout the rest of the week, we trekked back and forth between Camplus and Poggeschi, for classes and events. Friday, however, we had the second step of our permesso di soggiorno scheduled, and so I, along with a large chunk of my classmates, wandered off through town to find the immigration office.

After finding the immigration office (the marker on the map we were given was wrong), we had no idea what to do. We had been told nothing. Two students finally walked into a few doors and asked the people working there if that was where we needed to go. They finally got lucky, but it turned out that the post office had failed to send over some peoples' documents, and so some of us needed to have our appointments rescheduled.

I was one of those people. 

I now have to wait another month before I can complete this step. By the time my final paperwork comes in (which takes a month after my third step), I'll be leaving the country. 

After that disappointment, I needed to do something nice. And my roommate and I managed to do that. Together, we spent our first Saturday in Europe traveling to Venice. We had intended to wander through Murano, Burano, St. Mark's, and the Rialto, and take an evening train home. But we became fascinated by the brightly colored buildings of Burano and the gorgeous lace they sold, and spent longer there than anticipated. So instead of going inside the Basilica, we wandered around the outside, looking at the exterior, and watching the bells chime. We made it back to the train station with enough time to peacefully sit on the steps outside and enjoy some gelato and chit chat.

The piazza on Burano where my roommate and I ate lunch

The exterior of the Doge's Palace in Piazza San Marco

The view from the steps of Stazione Santa Lucia

Luckily for both of us, we already know that we're going back.

Yesterday, I spent a relaxing Sunday sleeping in and catching up on the sleep I didn't get in Greece. After waking up, I did some laundry and homework, and then went with some classmates to Mass at a local parish near Poggeschi. The service was beautiful - run by the Jesuits who live at Poggeschi - and, while it was said in Italian, the songs were in Italian, English, and Spanish. And, for our first Mass in Italy, we also had the chance to witness a baptism - just as moving in Italian as it is in English.

Although it did throw us all off because the order of Mass was a little different than usual.

After dinner with friends last night, and a busy day of classes today, I'm ready to see what happens this upcoming week. Whatever it is, I think I might be ready.