In Bocca al Lupo/ Buena Suerte/ Break a Leg

Sounds like 'inboccaloo' in Italian, wicked freaking fast. And literally, it means "In the mouth of the wolf." I'm not sure about the etymology of the phrase, but neither am I certain of the origins of many English (American) sayings, like "It's raining cats and dogs" (I heard once, but I forget...), or even "Break a leg." Regardless, "in bocca al lupo" is a common saying here in Italy used to wish someone good luck (also "buona fortuna").

Luck, if you want to call it that, has been on my side, as mentioned in my last post. But this post isn't so much about luck as it is about an update on culture here.

Lesson 1: If you want to cross the street, look both ways, even if you are right behind someone who already looked both ways. You might almost get pummeled by un moto (motorcyle) and have a near death experience. When this experience happens, don't panic; remember your zen. Glad I had it (thank you yoga). I learned this my first night in Perugia and didn't post it before because I didn't want my mommy to worry :). It's okay; I won't ever do it again. I'm afraid of Perugian traffic now (if you think it's irrational, there was also a fender bender six inches behind me while I was walking on the 'sidewalk').

Lesson 2: Don't talk to, or even make eye contact with, random Italian men on the street. They might start talking to you, and sucking you in to talking back and feeling uncomfortable. Italian women are infamous for being 'cold' and completely ignoring everything around them, especially needy ragazzi e uomini (guys and men), while walking through the city. Vecchi uomini (old men, middle aged rather) will stop you and your friend and try to make conversation:

"You are from Gli Stati Uniti? In level A2 all'Università per Stranieri?" Blah blah blah... ten minutes later when they still won't let you walk away:
Sketchy Balding Old Guy Getting A Bit Too Touchy: Haley, when can I see you again?"
Me Backing Up And Looking Away: "Oh, you know, maybe if I walk by you or something."

Say, we're in ritardo (late). No I don't want to go around that dark corner with you at night 'to see the view' (sends desperate look towards roommate who is stuck with un altro uomo).
My Roommate: Say, sorry guys, we're in ritardo. Yeah, we gotta go. See you later.
Me in My Head: HALLELUJAH!!!
Me for Realsies: Exhales.

Point: Walk like a n Egyptian Perugian woman. At all times. Even if you want to "go all Feminism on their asses" when people tell you not to walk alone at night or to walk with a guy friend, it's not worth it. Freedom and equality are too high a need on Maslow's hierarchy (Shout out to Jenn and P...psych!) to worry about when the safety-first need is threatening to give you a myocardial infarction (Shout out to Sabrina Salmela and Nicole Reynolds, biology/pathology/kinesiology nerds). Yes, that does mean 'heart attack' to normal people.


Lesson 3: Shhhhh! The syllabus is a secret. You don't really need to know what is expected of you in class, what you will be covering, or even how to get there. Just follow along blindly and trust the professori italiani to do what they do. Want to see the (plausible) method to the (absolute) madness in the classroom? Go to Francesco at Umbra. Don't count on Stranieri (che strano...how strange...).

If you are a teacher or you are an Education major, listen up: DO NOT TAKE TEACHING TIPS FROM ITALIANS. They are still stuck in the lecture-style-only past. They don't come around and see if you get it. If you do get it and are bored to tears, they don't give you something to move on to. There isn't all that much interaction (except in my favorite class here, Esercitazioni Orali). They don't frame lessons (they flip through and see what the book has in store for the day). They don't tell you what you're doing and you can't guess why. Yes, you do learn Italian. But really, you learn about Italians. Keep on exhaling the frustration. You're not in Amurrica anymore, Toto. The only red shoes you have are time and a plane ticket home (but it goes to Germany first; no complaints here, though!).
Allora, if you can't beat them (and you can't...), then call them dumb eyetalians to your blog, sing some Float On and Three Little Birds, be freakin' Amurrican (damnit!) and look like it too, and remember what you're here for:

To live outside your comfort zone, and stay there for a while.
To figure out how to make order out of chaos.
To see chaos as what it is (just a B+ instead of an A-; just a normal pace instead of too much too fast).
I stole this quote from Liv (she found it first): "Life begins at the end of your comfort zone." -Neale Donald Walsch

I love this quote, because yes, it is exactly what I'm talking about. But I also love it because the main reasons I'm here are simply, well, to live and to learn. Period. Uber straightforward contexts; nothing incognito at all. And whether it be by studying, or daily living, or even luck, I am learning and will continue to learn.


Okay, but as you may have guessed by now, Perugia isn't like a palace or the Walgreens commercial about the town of 'Perfect' to me. I hated Perugia the first two nights I was here (severe culture shock and Lessons 1-2). I hated it today in class (frustration, culture shock and Lesson 3). But hey, lessons were learned. And I guess even though I'm not skipping through the prairie with daisies while smiling at all the spedcial things about dumb eyetalians, I am conscious of the fact that I am--in this moment--realizing my goals.

I'm not saying I hate it here, or even that I don't like it here in general. It's just different. I like experiencing different because, well, it's just different. The beauties of this place will be in the next post (promise).

But finally for now, I'd like to say that life is sometimes like a box of Perugian chocolates: Some may taste like miracles while others might have yucky stuff in the middle, but after you try them, you'll know which ones to eat again tomorrow (Shout out to Forrest Gump.... He's real. Don't hate.).

Pace/Paz/Peace,
Haley