Ciao!
It seems fitting that I create this blog on New Years eve as I avoid both packing and continuing with the "new" puns. The idea of going to Florence, Italy (or studying abroad, really) only took shape in my mind as an abstract idea--until very recently. Spending the spring semester away from campus, which I have admittedly grown to enjoy more with each passing semester of my undergraduate career, seems like such a foreign concept: take classes in a building other than college hall? live more than a short walk from the lovely Crosby student center? Having recently completed my fifth semester at Gonzaga University, I confess that part of me is dreading giving up my idiosyncratic routines of college living.
And yet...
I know an enriching experience awaits me. It cannot be anything less than rewarding, so I've been reassured. I can hardly remember submitting my application to the study abroad office sometime back in the fall of sophomore year. I chose to go with a program that was (still is, I'm sure) tried and true: Gonzaga in Florence. Established in 1963, my home university has been sending students and faculty to Firenze, Italia, to study, live, learn, and grow. For those of you who have yet to get out your atlases and locate Florence, it's north-central Italy--near the knee of the boot.
Classes are taught in English, except for the Italian language classes in which we are required to have at least a semesters-worth of experience (I have two). Instead of attempting the headache that is transferring credits, everything I earn goes straight to my degree. Thus Love in the Renaissance, the Writing Traveler, Cultural Globalism, Existentialism, and Renaissance Architecture are up next on my transcript. Not too bad for 15 credits and only three days of classes. Yes. I will proudly own up to the fact that I have class on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays. Go ahead; call me a slacker. To be fair, though, I'm at a desk by 8am on the mornings I do have class, and I'm not finished until 6:30pm on Mondays and Tuesdays--Oh, who am I fooling? I've got a pretty easy schedule.
The school part of this whole scheme doesn't give me pause. That'll be the easy part. It's the adjustment, the culture shock, that sets my nerves on edge. I guess that's all part of it, though: immersing oneself in a foreign culture. By definition, I'm supposed to stick out; I'm not supposed fit right in. And I'm usually good at fitting in to my surroundings. It's no secret that I'm not exactly the most outgoing of my peers. I'd like to think that writer-ly types like myself are afforded with a strain of introspection necessary for doing what I think I do pretty well: write.
So that's what I'll do here on the blog. As evidenced by the length of this post, I have no qualms about that. I have two days until my departure and a few bags to pack, so I'd best staunch the rushing flow of thoughts/fears that are a given part of traveling and get to actually putting clothes into a bag.
Until next time, arrivederci!
