Downsizing My Comfort, Maximizing My Worldview

I’ve been here for 3.5 weeks. Although I still feel like I have so much to figure out, I have gained a little stability- and in this context, stability is a gift. There is absolutely no organization. This is demonstrated in my class schedule: I start a different class every week within the next 4 weeks, and none of my classes have exactly the same holiday breaks…? When I wake up, I never know where i will be in 5 hours. When we make travel plans, we do it 2 days in advance.

One thing I’ve learned through this is how I hyper-manipulate my schedule back in America. I try to stuff it completely full and that validates my productivity. But that is just not true here. Furthermore, the Italians walk sooo slowly… while I studder-step behind them to prevent myself from stepping on their heels, my new Italian friend explains to me that they are just enjoying every step. So I calmed my jets and realized that there is some beauty in that. Even though I’m resisting the way Italy organizes things (really, how they don’t organize anything…), I want to piano piano submit to the culture and taste the sweetness is in the freedom here.

That being said, I have an apartment! Viale Angelo Masini 52, Bologna, IT.

I share a room with another bellissima student studying law, Carlotta, from Puglia, who only speaks Italian… and Puglia dialect, which makes things more confusing but also makes me thankful for the millions of hand gestures Italians used (Which historically originated from all the Italian regions having different dialects and thus they used their hands to get their point across to other Italians). Next door is my landlord Luca. He is 37 but is really fun and knows the city like the back of his hand. Isn’t it strange that he lives with us?… Regardless, I am thankful for him because he has accommodated for me so much. Across the hall is Sebastian (from Columbia) and Enrico (from Tuscany), two other very kind students that only speak Italian to me until they want me to translate lyrics of American songs for them. Enrico’s a big fan of The Beatles but when he brought me the lyrics of I Am The Walrus and told me to make sense of them… all I could do was laugh- imagine trying to translate that into Italian with the little vocab that I have when it is already gibberish!

To describe my apartment: new building, gated community, perfect location, university side, tiny, limited electricity, freezing. Let me take you on an incomplete tour…

The gated community stretches through all of these main 6 buildings. Mine is the far right orange one that is the shortest, and I live on the 2nd floor. Note that there are TREES! This is a rare, and I love them. There is also a piazza in the middle of our community where I can spend time with the sun.

My bedroom! The tiny single beds are pushed together, and even though the room is tiny, there is TONS of closet space that line the left wall from floor to ceiling. The right side of the room is mine. It has a HUGE desk and it is a great space for getting work done. I appreciate the natural light that we can let in but the biggest shock is that all the walls are white and decorating is a strange thing to do here.

The bathroom. Is tiny. The shower. Is 2×2. There is a timer on how long I can use the water, so when I shave my legs I have to turn off the water and open the sliding doors (shown open to their maximum ability- I barely fit) and kick out my leg one at a time. So strange.

The kitchen/ washroom/ living room. That’s right. On the left are our appliances: namely, a fridge, freezer, stove and an oven, which must be lit by hand. Our washing machine is also on the left which is relatively big for Italy. On the right is our bar table and stools. This is where we eat, study , hang out, watch “TV” (on our laptops- I’m trying to conquer the How I Met Your Mother series in Italian… I’d probably think it was funnier if it was in English though). The window looks out onto our GIGANTIC balcony which will come in handy when it warms up in April, the Viale (big road shown in the first picture), and Porta Mascarella, which dates back to the 1300s.

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Everything is different here: it is normal to live with dudes, a 37 y/o man (maybe?). Comfort like a couch, and heating, superfluous space, and my mother’s warm presence isn’t here. But still, I’m thankful for it- there was a point in my apartment search where I was so hopeless that as I walked through the streets of Bologna I would look at corners between buildings and think “hey, that corner looks exceptionally warm should I need to sleep on the street”. But that was not necessary, and more important than the structure of the apartment are the people- I really do love my roommates.