A good day for a funny story

We were told that we would have a funny story to tell. And today, Kari and I have a funny story to tell!

The group met this morning at the Pantheon to go get espresso and then grab lunch. We finally got there, after some tension as the stops on the bus we always take, the 492, were different today. I attribute that to it being sabato and more of a touristy day. But we got off at our stop and made it there for 11 on the dot. And the espresso was good! A little too sweet with the one sugar, but good. And lunch was fun too; I had my first brushetta and the pomodori were so fresh (Mom, you would have loved them!) and then some insalate pollo. Matt was sitting across from me and he ordered shrimp and they HAD THE EYES AND LEGS STILL. It was disgusting. Kendall was sitting next to him and we asked him to cut all the heads off and hide them. I felt like they were judging me.

But after lunch Kari and I went up to Teri's hotel room to grab some papers and the rest of the group headed back. That's were the day got interesting. We figured we'd grab the metro and get off at the stop Kari needed to pick up the 30 day metro/autobus pass. The only catch was that to grab the metro we would need to go up to Barberini and we were even a little but past the Pantheon. We figured if we went up to Fontana di Trevi we could pick up Via del Tritone and be good. I have no idea how it happened but we went inside the Pantheon again to look around, came out and got turned and twisted around. Half the streets weren't even marked on the map, so we just headed in what we assumed to be the right direction. But partway through we got stopped at a police blockade and had to turn around. All of these streets were blocked off, we started to notice. This was because President Bush is in Rome today. So we were trying to get to Fontana di Trevi and we finally hit a street to get us there and it is completely roped off--caution signs everywhere but there are people lined up on both sides of the street, taking pictures and pointing. And all of these police cars with sirens blaring start whipping by and Kari says, "I think that might be President Bush!" So we kind of pushed our way forward and stood there. About 30 cars, at least, start to go by and we're saying, "We don't know what's happening, but let's take some pictures!" The man next to us, an Italian, said, "It's for your presidente." And we were laughing because it's kind of funny to go all the way to Rome to see the President. We couldn't tell which car he was in but we did see all of them go by and when they finished, the man told us, "Enjoy Roma."

We went to the Trevi Fountain then and took pictures, got turned around again, and finally found our way to Via del Traforo, which connects to Via del Tritone. It was on that street that we saw a man running down the side of the road waving a giant rainbow striped pot flag. It was really interesting to see a protester, coming from a human rights prospective, and not one policeman stopped him (although he might have stopped before he reached them). No one really noticed him or paid any attention to him. He was just some guy running with a giant flag. But to really have a successful protest you need more numbers.

Our feet killing us (Kari's more so than mine) and Kari's jet lag beginning to kick in again (since she just got here yesterday at noon due to plane cancellation), we were really glad to see the Metro station. Not so glad when it was closed. We went into a tabbachi to see if we could buy a one-way ticket for the next one, a 20 minute walk to the Spanish Steps when the proprietor told us all the buses and metros were closed because of President Bush. We were not so happy to have seen him then. But the good news was that Kari bought her month long pass there.

We decided to just hop in a cab because we were tired and did NOT feel like walking to Medaglie D'Oro, which probably would take an hour and a half. So we hailed a cab. The driver was probably in his late fifties or early sixties and did NOT speak English. We told him we wanted to got to Medaglie D'Oro. The first way he wanted to go was blocked and he got into an argument with the police officer. It was very interesting to watch him because he really used a lot of hand gestures to emphasize his words while he was talking,even though I really didn't know what he was saying. So he started on another route and then he got and idea and made the idea sign and said another road. And then he said, "Bene bene bene." So we took that and he pointed out Villa Borghese. We reached the road Medaglie D'Oro and h asked us which hotel. Kari told him the road and had no idea where it was. So he started driving down the road, asking people. They didn't know. Then we told him it was Residence Medaglie D'Oro. And he said, "Ah!" And he asked people and they didn't know. He then pulled over, put on his glasses, and radioed in. They told him the same address Kari had said at least seven times by that point. He then pulled kind of off the road got out of the car, leaving the door open and went into a hair salon to get directions. They didn't know. He came back out, said, "Loco," and pointed at the side of his head. He then, using motions and speaking at the same time, told us we should write down the address next time.

We got direction when he pulled up next to some ancient cab driver and a red light. When the light turned we were honked at and 4 people drove around us. We had to do a three point turn but he kept saying, "Bella bella" and cheering with his hands.

At about 3.00 we pulled into Medaglie D'Oro. We gave him a 5 euro tip and decided that we had a very interesting day. I was surprised at how well we could communicate with him, although I wish that I had known more directions or question words. The nonverbals were fairly easy to understand and translated well. All in all, it's been an interesting day!

Arriving in Rome

I flew from Pittsburgh to Cincinnati and the flight was really short. There was the cutest little girl across the row from me and we talked a little bit.

On the flight from Cincinnati to Rome there were seven of us, which was really nice. I had been worried about how I was going to get to Medaglie D'Oro, but having so many of us it was easy. The plane was a beast, though! I didn't realize it would be so huge! I sat next to a couple, and the man grew up about 100 m outside of Rome. I know this because I eavesdropped on them a little. I couldn't really help it. It was fun sitting next to them because he would correct the flight attendant's Italian to his wife.

A bird just almost flew in the apartment. Kari, my roommate, brought her computer, which is really nice because we get free wireless. But back to arriving.

Maneuvering around FCO was easy. And customs was not what I was expecting! We waited in this beastly long line and then you had to step up to a yellow line, wait a minute, and then just walk through, hold your passport up to the window, and he waved us on. The guy was just sitting there with his head in his hands, looking bored as could be. He actually looked like Mussolini.

We all cabbed into Medaglie D'Oro, and it was 20 euro each. We took a van. And it was terrifying. It was our first experience with Rome drivers, and they are crazy. Just because the light is red doesn't necessarily mean they will stop. Especially the scooter drivers.

At Residence Medaglie D'Oro, we got keys and room assignments and waited for the meeting and walk. I took a shower because I felt so dirty! But I was so excited to finally be in Rome! On our first walk, I think the moment that I first got really excited to be here was when we got to the Spanish Steps. It was so amazing to see them, full of people. And the Keats and Shelley museo is right next to them. There's just so much history here--I love it. There's just nothing like it in America!

So arriving was good--no stories there! I was just glad to shower and then go to bed!

Hofstede

Hofstede's four cultural dimensions are are individual/collectivism, uncertainty avoidance, power distance, and masculinity/femininity.

Individual/collectivism discussing whether or not cultures are individualistic or collectivist. An individualistic culture is one that views the individual as the single most important part of culture. In these cultures, individual achievement is rewarded and independence is stressed over dependence. The uniqueness of each individual is valued. Competition rather than cooperation is valued and personal goals are more important than group goals. The United States is an example of an individualistic culture. Collective cultures have a more rigid framework. In a collectivist culture, the values an needs f the in0group are put before the needs of the individual. The beliefs of the individual are not separate from the beliefs of the group.

Uncertainty avoidance basically states that the future is unknowable. The level of uncertainty that each culture has differs depending upon the culture. Some cultures have high uncertainty avoidance and some have low. High uncertainty avoidance cultures like to avoid any uncertainty. This is done by providing stability through the establishment by providing rules for the members to follow. Following the rules will reduce the stress. Cultures with low uncertainty avoidance accept that uncertainty is a part of life. They like taking risks and are less tense and more relaxed.

Power distance classifies culture on a continuum of high to low power distance. Cultures with high power distances accept power as a part of society and teach members that all people are not equal. They are hierarchical cultures and institutional inequality is present. Low power distance culture believe that inequality in all forms should be minimized. They view hierarchies as another form of inequalities.

Masculinity and femininity refers to the degree that cultures value masculine and feminine traits. Masculinity refers to the extent that the culture has dominant masculine traits. Masculine cultures have highly defined gender roles. Cultures that value femininity value nurturing behaviors and believes that men don't need to be assertive and that they too should assume nurturing roles. The ideal is androgynous behavior.

Leaving for Italy

Well, emotionally, I am ready to go to Italy. I am excited about going; I've never been before and so I'm very excited about going. I'm more relaxed now that I know I'm going to be meeting Rose and Rachel on the plane in Cincinnati. That just takes a weight off.

But I'm not packed yet, my passport is being overnighted because they didn't finish it yet, and (as we can tell) I still have a blog entry to finish, other than this one. I am just a procrastinator. And I hate packing. I just would like to BE there and not really do any of the stuff needed to prepare for it that is still on one of my lists. I do like checking things off once I get them done. I know I'll get everything done, and I'm not stressed. I'm not extremely excited either. Maybe once I get more done I'll get really really excited. I'm just a person that has to move through things in steps and see progress before I get happy/relieved. If it doesn't look like I've made progress, then I don't feel like I've made progress, even if I have. But considering all that I have to do, I'm actually not feeling that stressed out. I know what I have to do. I know that I can do it. I think that after I wrote that huge paper last semester packing doesn't seem like that big of a deal. Plus, my mom or my dad will just end up re-doing it anyway. And I am not saying that because I want them to pack for me. I just know this as a fact. People do not like the way that I pack, and my parents are much more anal than I am. And are apparently experts in packing.

My cousin is studying with UD's program in London and it sounds like she's having a really good time. I expect that I will have as much fun as she is! I think my expectations are...well I don't really know. When we went to the Grand Canyon when I was in high school, my brother Nate and I complained the whole time before we'd gone because we said, "What's the point in going? It's just a hole." We'd seen it in movies and didn't think it would be a big deal or anything. We got there and it was amazing, just so huge and epic--it was bigger and greater than anything I could ever have imagined. And I don't think I would have wanted to imagine anything that big, because nothing could have lived up to that. And last summer, my mom and I went to New York City for the first time after a 12-year campaign on my part. I had ALWAYS wanted to go to New York City. But I remember my mom asking me what I expected and I said, "I don't know. I've never been there." And then we got there and THAT was amazing too...the constant pulsing of the city, like you were just connected with every other person there. So I guess the point is that I try not to have preconceived expectations of someplace new. I like to just have it hit me in the face so I experience it full force. And then I have that memory forever. I still have my memories of some of my most life-changing first places (well, the only one I didn't mention was when I saw Disney World for the first time) in my mind. I can still remember all of my emotions.

But I do expect that I will have an amazing time, because I do have an amazing time wherever I go.

Stereotypes

One main stereotype that I think exists in other countries about Americans is that we are rude and selfish and care only about ourselves and look down on all other cultures. Another stereotype I think that others have about Americans is that we think that we are better than all other nations. I also think that other cultures think that all Americans have money. They also think that all Americans agree with the current political regime.

Stereotypes I have heard that exist about Italians are ones like they are very loud and noisy. They eat all the time and very large meals. It takes them forever to get anything done; bureaucratically, they are very slow-moving. Another stereotype is that all Italians are short. I have also heard that the pace of life in general is much slower in Italy than it is in the United States.

I think that sources for these stereotypes could come from a variety of places. For the stereotypes regarding Americans, they could come from our political activities and the media representation of them. They could also come from movies about Americans. A lot of American movies are sent all over the world and translated into many languages. Movies oftentimes present situations and characters who are meant to represent average Americans but in actuality do not. The sources for stereotypes about Italians could come from movies, like The Godfather. Also, there are many Italian immigrants who live in the United States. Seeing how they act with each other could cause people to generalize as to the entire Italian population. The pace difference stereotype I learned in a social psychology class. It ranked the differences in paces of life for different cultures by measuring how fast people walk. Americans walk very fast while Italians tended to be one of the slower-moving cultures.

These stereotypes could have a really negative impact on intercultural communication. Much of the international community does not agree with the actions of the current American government, and if they believe that all Americans share the same ideals, then they may project their dislike when conversing with Americans. They could assume that in their interactions with Americans, the Americans are going to be rude. Conversely, because of the differences in the cultures, Americans may also have some difficulties in communicating with Italians. The differences in pace may be difficult for Americans, who may see the slower moving Italians as being weaker.

Cultural Consciousness

Two values that my mother really hammered into me and my brother was the "treat others as you'd like to be treated" and "imagine yourself in that person's shoes." This really shaped my childhood and instilled in me a great deal of empathy. My parents felt that these values would make us more likely to treat people with respect and kindness and compassion. Keeping to these values would help us to always ensure that other people would feel valued, even if (and especially if) they were different from us.

When we grew up, we were expected to go to college. My family, since my parent's generation, have all gone to college. Education is highly valued in our family. My maternal grandfather went to college later in life, after my mom was born, and he would always tell us stories about how he'd go to school, then drive and work on the railroad and then go home and stay up all night doing homework. He always stressed the importance of education to us. When we were growing up, we were expected to contribute to family life by helping to maintain the house by doing chores, such as cleaning. Now that I'm in college, that still holds true when I'm home, although to a lesser extent. Once I graduate, I know that my family responsibilities won't be huge. I already know that I probably won't live in the same area as the majority of my family--I'll have to go where the jobs are. I know that my family will expect me to keep in touch, which I will do, of course.

My family structure was the traditional nuclear family: two parents and a younger brother. Both of my parents worked for my entire childhood (and still work). The majority of my extended family have always lived in near-by towns, so we would see them for all holidays and at random times in between. Family was always very important--during holidays, we were never allowed to "disappear" and go play. We had to spend time talking with the adults. Now that I'm older, I'm glad my parents made us do that because I got to learn a lot more about my family that way.

Our ethnicity was always very important to our family and we learned about it from the time we were little. My mother is Serbian and Croatian; my father is Italian. All of their family members taught us about our culture. We celebrate Serbian Christmas every year on January 7 and about 6 years ago also began celebrating Christmas Eve. We always do it at our house. The family comes over. On Christmas Eve we cook fish on the back porch because my mom says it smells and she doesn't want our house to smell like it. On Christmas Eve you can only eat food that comes from the ground or from the sea, so the meal is pretty limited. Christmas Day, my mom's cousin always makes a different soup. When I came home my freshman year in college, she made wedding soup for me. She normally doesn't do that because she hates rolling the meatballs. We also always have sarma, which is a traditional Serbian food that my mom, Tete (my great-aunt), and I always rolled. It's rice, onion, and meat rolled into cabbage rolls. In between the cabbage rolls, when you cook it, you put sausage. Before dinner, my grandpa lights the candle, says a prayer, and then we all do a shot of whiskey. Our Italian heritage is always important to us as well. Every year we participate in a parade honoring the patron saint of my dad's family's village, San Rocco. A lot of people from the same village immigrated to the same town in the 1920's and carried with them this tradition, which we still do today. It's really cool to be a part of the procession. The procession begins with the priests, then the band, then the statue, which is carried by decedents of the original immigrants. My father and brother are both statue carriers. They are followed by the women of the families who carry banners honoring family members who have died. My cousins and I carry family banners.

I grew up in a neighboorhood that had a lot of children. We would all play together. Also, my next door neighbor was disabled. Her name was Mrs. Foster and she had MS. She was in and electric wheelchair from the time I was fairly little. I can remember going over to pick stuff up for her when it would be beyond her reach, or when my brother and I would lock ourselves our because they had our extra key. We'd always stay after we returned the key to talk with her. My family was very similiar to the other families in our neighborhood. We live in an entirely white, heterosexual neighborhood. My neighborhood is representative of my town.

Intercultural Encounter

My freshman year in college I took Italian for two semesters. My teacher was Alessandra. She had just finished up University in Rome, and this was her first time in the U.S. During the course of having Alessandra for two semesters, we (as a class) taught her much about American culture. She had some trouble adjusting to American culture. I remember one such encounter we had. Class was at 9 a.m. five days a week so I would usually bring string cheese to eat. One day Alessandra asked me what I was eating, so I told her it was string cheese. She was mostly horrified. She couldn't understand that it was cheese in a chunk that you pulled into strings and ate. Then the class got into a debate over how we ate string cheese--did we break it off into pieces or do the more traditional pulling of strips? Alessandra was even more amazed that there were multiple ways to eat string cheese.

I always felt very comfortable communicating with Alessandra. She conducted the class entirely in Italian, which was more comfortable for her, but outside of class or when we had personal discussions in class, we used English. She would never laugh at us if we misused a word or got two similar words confused. We always extended that same consideration to her. By the time the particular event that I described had occurred, we were well into the second semester, so I had known Alessandra for months. Our class was smaller second semester and she was much more comfortable with all of us, and we were with her.

The experience helped me to look at things that I felt were just a part of my every-day life through another person's eyes. I ate string cheese a lot during that time. I didn't really think of it as something strange. All my friends ate string cheese. It wasn't a weird thing to eat, in my personal opinion. But seeing Alessandra's take on the string cheese made me re-evaluate that opinion. To her, string cheese was a hunk of processed cheese. In her culture, she was used to eating fresh cheese. The sight of processed cheese in a log-like chunk would be disgusting. The experience taught me to look at my experiences and my actions more objectively, through another person's eyes.

Although we did sometimes face obstacles in our communication, it was never awkward or uncomfortable. Alessandra from day one emphasized non-verbal communication, such as hand gestures. Even if she was speaking in Italian and I didn't know everything she was saying, if I could pick out three words, correctly place her tone and identify her hand gestures, I could pretty much guess at what she was saying. She did the same with us. That was the most important thing I took from communicating with Alessandra: even if you can't translate exactly what someone is saying, if you can pick up a few words and context clues, you're good to go.