Tofu and Pesto, Peanut Butter and a Kilo of Brie (the life of a university student in Bologna)

Ok, so I’m finally starting to get this whole exchange thing…it goes a little something like this.

First you have to get over yourself (something that is much easier said than done...) Here’s why…

Erasmus is universally regarded (in Europe at least) more as a…social experience than an academic experience; not so much a joke, but definitely…less…academically rigorous than let’s say [insert your home university here]. I wasn’t really aware of this until, while talking with the pack of Swedes one night over a bottle of wine, they made it pretty clear that people who go on Erasmus exchange (in Europe at least) often to have to do ANOTHER year of university; this is obviously not an option for me so I have to tread the fine line between North American and European university cultures.

Ok, so keep this in mind while you read everything else.

What has been really pissing me off more than anything else (but I’ve come to realize is warranted) is how Erasmus students, and international exchange students get treated around here. I, more than anything else (and here’s where a substantial amount of arrogance comes in…of which I have only recently been aware of) to be treated like an Italian student.

RIGHT.

Exhibit A. In my masters (yeah, that’s right… insane much) level History of Renaissance Theatre class the prof makes a point of giving the…easy…readings to the foreign students. It’s not like she’s handing us coloring books with pictures of Bernini’s masterpieces and speaking to us like we are 5, but the implication is specifically that less work is expected of you because you are in idiot (and by idiot I mean that you don’t speak Italian that well.) Here’s my dilemma, I’m pretty much in between the typical Erasmus student who just came to Bologna three weeks ago and only started taking Italian then…and the superstars in my class who have already studied Aristotles’ theories on acting and performance. My Italian is good and I can survive conversational stuff but I can’t expound upon the notions of classical theory with regards to theatre: catch my incredibly uncomfortable and in between linguistic drift? We have to present each of these readings in class, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m intimidated or I just reached way beyond my limit as far a course content, but I don’t have much to offer to the debate. So here’s what always happens: I say something. Prof repeats it louder. I say something. Prof expands on the point. I say something…and then I get a glimmer of hope and someone a syntax in my theatrical mind connects and I push it a little more.

Ok that’s enough. SHOT DOWNNNNN.
Exhibit B. I’m taking your standard intro to Italian literature course for all the aspiring Italian studies and Literature undergraduates here in Bologna; the only problem is that since Dante (and other Italian masterpieces) are…studied in such complex detail in…kindergarten…that when the prof says something like:

“As you can see this clearly relates to the Scuola Siciliana based on the
rhythmic…[not understanding]….troubadours who brought this style to
Italy…[really fast tirade of numbers that I don’t’ catch]”

everyone nods in approval. I sit there, incredulous to the fact that everyone else gets it.

So needless to say for this course there is both a written and oral exam; the written being the requisite for the oral. I went to a prep session for the written exam and almost cried. It was more of the above mentioned dialogue, but for two hours without any respite.

Shiiiiiit.

I went up to the prof afterwards and basically admitted my stupidity/pleaded for mercy and asked what would be the format for Erasmus students…I shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Oh for you guys, it’s like nothing… two books instead of five…no written exam
[insert my sigh of relief because he talked specifically about attention to language
and how errors would automatically disqualify the essay], just an oral.”

Then here’s the weird thing: he just started speaking in French about how standards for international students are different. I responded, and this of course led to the weirdest and most disjoint conversation I have ever had with a prof about language, university culture, etc…

Switch back to Italian. He mentions the superiority of British to American English (Europeans an their languages…) And then…

“So your French is better than your Italian.”

Hummmmma what? Thanks?

So here we go for getting over yourself. These standards are put in place and upheld for a reason… they NEED to be there. As much as I would love to be able to expand on the tenets of Renaissance theatre in Italian, I can’t.

You can’t imagine how hard it is for me to admit that I can't do something, but like I said, it means hanging up your pride and realizing that you’re a little Erasmus student-guppy swimming in the Pacific Ocean that is the University of Bologna: not caring and not taking yourself seriously is essential to survival here.

Click! My environmentally friendly IKEA light bulb turns on.

In other news that is somewhat disjointly related, somehow yesterday when I went to the market to pick up some food for a dinner…I ended up buying a kilogram of Brie. After a night of apperitivi and carbohydrate overloading, I was craving some eggs and veggies (aka my peasant food). I was thinking, you know, some sort of frittata and, since I’m such a wannabe French person sometimes, some cheese and bread. I saw the sign for 7 Euros and that was it, formaggio francese for Matteo. I admit it, I can do kilometers and Celsius stuff, but with metric weight measurements, I am clueless and slightly less than proficient. It didn’t look that big in the glass…so I said what the hell.

Just to put it in perspective for all of you reading this, take one of your dinner plates and measure about half an inch in height…that’s a kilogram of Brie.

Yum.

Talk about a crash course in life. This is, getting over yourself/ learning some humility/ learning how to appreciate life 101.

So here we go, here’s the list to survival in Erasmus at the University of Bologna:

-Get over yourself. The cardinal rule I will from here on dedicate myself to. You will never be Italian/the best at everything; so why disappoint yourself when it doesn’t seem like everything is going right? You're always your own biggest critic.

-Humility, Humility, Humility. Maybe taking masters courses in Renaissance theatre wasn’t the best idea… just ride the wave.

-Have a sense of humor about life. Buying kilos of cheese really helps hit that one home.

-Do stuff you wouldn’t normally do. Like…live a little? Hello?

-Adapt, but don’t bitch about it. Like…making tofu with pesto and veggies?

-Realize that you’re pretty fucking awesome for everything that your doing. Umm.. I was speaking in French with some Belgians and then Italian last night…fuck that’s cool PLUS the fact that I’m figuring all this shit out by myself (and getting by with a lot of support from the home front and Montréal)

-Find some peanut butter for those rough in betweens…which I did the other day at the supermarket.