Back to School

As this post’s title suggests, I am now officially back in school! No, I haven’t gone back to teaching yet. Instead, I’ve found a lovely Italian language school in the heart of Naples. I signed up for the intensive four-week course, which has kept me quite busy. That, coupled with our continued lack of internet at home, has gotten in the way of regular updates to the blog. My list of topics for future posts has now doubled in size! We’ll see if my memory serves me well in trying to recount all our little adventures from the past few weeks.

It’s funny to find myself back in the student’s chair; I had kind of forgotten what it was like to be on the other side of the classroom. Needless to say, the experience has given me lots of inspiration for any lessons I give in the future.

While I cannot restrain myself from analyzing pedagogy, it is really refreshing to be learning again. Upon my graduation from college, I could not help but feel things were a bit stagnant: sure, I had a world of experiences ahead of me, and my pick of newspapers and books and magazines to learn from, but now that classes were over I felt like I had surrendered my key to the door of freely flowing ideas and ideologies. This is an exaggeration, of course, but I’m sure other recent grads (can I still consider my undergrad graduation fresh? It’s hard to believe that that was almost five whole years ago!) would agree that after college your flexible schedule goes out the window, and you are easily sucked into a rut of work weeks, daily routines, and stale ideas. So it is wonderful to be able to enter stanza due every morning and soak up the knowledge until my head starts spinning a little bit.

The atmosphere in the school is also pretty stimulating. The students come from all sorts of countries, and with that, all walks of life. The language barrier forces you to speak Italian with your fellow classmates, and in the process you learn a great deal about other cultures. In my class—thankfully, it is very small and we each get a fair amount of individual attention—there are six other students, each with a fascinating story. The youngest, an 18-year-old girl from Ukraine, is a language whiz and the most conscientious student of the class. She came to Naples with her mother, in search of a career in languages and a better life—apparently the job situation in Ukraine is pretty grim. (To an American, it is shocking to hear that Naples—home to disorganization, pollution, and a very relaxed workforce—could be a step up. Hearing this really reminds you of your myriad blessings, and prompts you to examine why you forget them so easily.) The rest of us are in our twenties, and have a little bit more trouble keeping up with our studies!

Another person who agrees with the Ukrainian girl on the opportunities in Italy is the guy from Nicaragua. He had the great fortune of getting a basketball scholarship to an American university, and has since come to Naples to see something different. When I asked him, “Why Naples?” he answered that he could not live without the passionate lifestyle you find in such a disorganized city. Our teacher readily agreed! Despite the grim economic situation in Nicaragua, this guy has a great amount of nostalgia for his home and would happily return there if he could find a job.

Two of the students are learning the language for love: one is a tall, skinny Turkish guy who fell in love with what we can conclude from his stories is a hard-headed Neapolitan girl. We give him a hard time because every time he answers a question, he finds a way to refer to la sua ragazza. The other student enamored with her Neapolitan ragazzo is a Brazilian lawyer who would like to continue practicing here in Italy, but is consequently under great stress: her boss has given her a three-month ultimatum in which she either learns Italian right away, or says goodbye to her job.

Then there is the French importer-exporter (I want to call him Art Vandalay) of fruits and vegetables. He told me in a heavy southern French accent that he has never been one for school, and instead entered the workforce right out of high school. However, he has an affinity for other languages and cultures—I’m sure the nature of his work is a motivating factor—and has spent the past few years in language schools around the world—Australia, Spain, Germany, and now Italy. This means he is now on his sixth language (his family is originally Dutch, I think, so he grew up bilingual) and hence blows me out of the polyglot water. All the more reason to continue studying!

Finally, there is the spirited Venezuelan hair-stylist, who is here visiting the Italian side of her family, and loves it so much that she is going to apply for citizenship. She makes an entrance every morning, with her impossibly high heels and long French-manicured nails. She is pretty much my perfect foil: for her, shopping is a need she must regularly fulfill; grammar is the bane of her existence; the handsome ragazzi all around her are her motivation to get to the gym and especially to the nightclubs. Most of all, she has a heart of gold, and an addictive and enthusiastic personality that brings out the spirit in all of us. As I am sometimes on the timid side (especially given my new surroundings), I have always appreciated being around this type of person. I sure miss my exuberant girlfriends back home (and of course, that crazy British girl I met back at HEC Paris)! ;)

As you can see, there is never a dull moment in our little class. We have discussed everything from Turkish souvenirs (apparently the thing to get is an engraved wooden stick; I’ll opt for a hand-woven rug instead) to Berlusconi’s monopoly on Italian television to Brazilian transvestites—all in Italian. I am glad to have found a fast-paced course, and of course, to have made new friends.

It is also really nice to have more of a schedule for the next few weeks, as well as a specific reason to get out into the city. Little by little (piano a piano) I am familiarizing myself with public transportation and, most importantly, the softer side of Naples. A few examples: The first few times I rode the bus, I felt a little callous as I observed the little old ladies climbing aboard, and without fail, someone else offering them his or her seat. Imagine my surprise, after seeing so much flagrant pushing, shoving, and general selfishness! The Neapolitans are also very generous when giving directions: each time I ask with a shy “Scusi," they are very friendly and helpful to the point of accompanying me part of the way. Many of them ask me where I am from, and we talk a bit about cultural differences, and they congratulate me on my broken Italian. One elderly lady even kissed me on both cheeks at the end of a bus ride, wishing me auguri in light of my recent marriage.

I’ve also happily discovered the specialized food vendors all along my street. Given my busier schedule, I don’t have as much time to get to the grocery store on base, and have consequently been forced out into the stores in town. Never again will I buy flimsy sandwich bread, tired-looking vegetables, or who-knows-how-long-it’s-been-frozen meat! Out in town, the tiny neighborhood grocery store is overpriced and not stocked very well, so it is for emergencies only. However, just outside the funicular station is a friendly produce vendor, from whom I can get the freshest vegetables (and herbs! Ah, fresh basil…) for less than a euro apiece—and who confirmed that cranberries in fact do not exist here. A little further down the road is the equally friendly butcher, and right around the bend on our little street is the smiling baker (I’ll have to keep my guard up with that one! So far I have bought only bread but the cakes and croissants keep “staring” me in the nose…). And just yesterday, I finally ran into our next-door neighbor, who introduced herself right away and invited me over for a little chiacchiera (chat). I have been meaning to bake some cookies and introduce myself that way, so I’ll have to get on the ball, but I was relieved to find out that, contrary to what I had heard before, the neighbors do not keep to themselves at all costs.

Up until now, when the natives asked me how I liked their city, I would try to temper my gut response with a weak, “E…diverso” (it’s…different). Now that I am waiting on the bus, getting my groceries, and eating in restaurants alongside the Neapolitans, I see that they are people just like everybody else. They may have a more passionate, fast-paced lifestyle than I am accustomed to, and they may look out for themselves more than other populations, but the honest truth is that they wouldn’t have it any other way. In turn, this makes them an open people with a rich culture to offer (did I mention fresh food?), and plenty of excitement on the side. Sometimes this excitement proves too much for foreigners and locals alike, but I have finally learned why the Neapolitans are so unashamedly proud of their city.