S is for Scrappy

Most people associate college spring breaks with beaches, road trips and lots of bro tanks yelling about that it is in fact, spring break. We think of memories blurrier than the pictures taken after too many shot-skis, and troubling headlines in the newspapers.

And while these are our years to get away with that, I’m excited to return from spring break with some of the best memories of my life.

Many of these are thanks to my best friend and travel partner, Kate. There’s something exciting yet comforting about traveling with people you know well- especially ones you have so much in common with. Morning runs or yoga sessions were a given, anything that was climbable needed to be conquered, there was an unspoken limit on the word “Wi-Fi”, and dessert was never debatable.

However, my favorite thing about Kate is her fearless and unique confidence. Although this applies to many areas of her life, her willingness to ask questions or make requests is what really stands out.

I have noticed this before, from the time when we were at a deli and she asked for a “baby bite” of a pasta salad, when I’m pretty sure samples weren’t suggested. Or the times my blood pressure has gone up after she has said the familiar words, “well I’m just going to ask.”

It’s this odd phenomenon that we are terrified of being shut down, or thought of as annoying. When did it become preferable to eat a subpar meal than to request a specialized order? When did you become more correct by avoiding a teacher’s gaze and keeping your arms glued to your sides, rather than risking saying the wrong answer? When did it become a safer bet to only talk to people you know, than potentially make friends by starting up conversations?

For Kate, the answer is never. And luckily, it’s a contagious mindset.

Many of our favorite memories, and people, from this trip all began with a simple ask- backed by confidence. Friends were made on walking tours just by asking someone where they were from. We slept peacefully in empty couchettes on our trains by taking up too much space or switching seats unapologetically. Locals showed us around Munich and treated us beer and pretzels after  we asked if they spoke English. The list continues.

However fearless you are, the trickiest part of this mindset is having the confidence to not shut yourself down.

Once Kate and I parted ways and I was in Paris for the weekend, I had the perfect opportunity to practice just that. While leaving Sacre Coeur, I became separated from my four friends. 

I haven’t seen the movie Taken, but from the amount of references it has gotten this semester, I feel like I have. From what I can gather, and from my interesting memories of each visit to Sacré Coeur, I feel like it would fit the scene well.

Rather than crying, panicking or staying at Sacré Coeur for the rest of the weekend, I decided to make my way back to Jenny’s apartment after a half hour of waiting to spot them.

Relying on my familiarity with the metro, my memory from running on the side streets that morning and meditative breaths, I placed complete confidence in my ability to get back to the other side of Paris. After studying the metro map, I sat peacefully, switched lines seamlessly, and only stress-ate one Ladurée macarone along the way.

Once returning to Jenny’s apartment building, I stopped a student leaving, explained the situation and asked if he could let me in; he sympathized and agreed to help. After discovering they still had not returned home, I went to the lobby and sat outside the elevator door. With little concern of how I would be interpreted, I asked every person coming through if they knew Jenny Pedriani.

They were all no-go’s but I learned a lot about where these strangers were from, what they were doing that night, and even helped a girl trouble-shoot after witnessing vandalism. She was very confused to find out later that I did not live in the building, or in Paris as a whole.

Even though we worry so much about how strangers will react to random conversations, it’s our instinct as humans to make connections. That’s why we can sympathize with the random girl asking where you live, or find similarities with said girl sitting on the floor of an apartment lobby.

Eventually, the first kind stranger returned, so I asked him if he had Jenny’s number. Once again, this gem pulled through and let me use his phone to let Jenny know where I was. I don’t know how Taken ends, but this was a rewarding reunion, especially considering we skipped the main plot of me being taken.

We’re able to enjoy so much more when we aren’t afraid to branch out, connect with so many more people when we aren’t afraid to be vulnerable, and learn so much more when we aren’t afraid to risk being wrong.

As the U and many colleges approach spring breaks, I suggest you take a page out of Kate’s, and now my, book and don’t hesitate to ask for a trip worth remembering.

Most members of the Greek community who study abroad stay connected through WhatsApp, taking scenic pictures in spirit jerseys and wearing letters in hopes of meeting brothers/sisters abroad.

For some, like myself, this is a bit of an adjustment. Even though I try to stay updated, it’s impossible to truly be in the loop. I have no idea what this spring jam name change drama is, even though I read the Panhel email that was longer than most papers I have written here. I no longer have “Vice President of Recruitment” proceeding my name, or a leadership position to define my place in the community.

And the shocking part is, I’m not sure I mind.

Last night, I ended up meeting someone from the U of M Greek community who was visiting Rome for the weekend.

Naturally excited, I inquired what chapter he was apart of. To my surprise, he responded hesitantly and said he didn’t want to say. My confused looks must have implied a need for more information, as he proceeded to hint at unflattering events/rumors that tend to be associated with his chapter.

After this little guessing game, he finally revealed his chapter. I could too, but it’s not relevant. To most of the world, greek letters look like weird shapes, and what I am doing in front of the Trevi looks like a gang sign. Greek is Greek.

I could’ve changed the topic, but I’m glad I didn’t.

Offering our new friend some PR guidance, I told him the next time someone asks what house he’s in, he can’t reply with “I don’t want to say.” If you don’t want to say, you shouldn’t be wearing those letters. In fact, you shouldn’t be Greek. There’s already enough people saying negative things, you don’t need to add to it. What you need to do is tell the stories that have become overshadowed- the ones no one seems to know. If you don’t believe in your chapter, no one will.

You don’t have to be halfway across the world to be removed or to be wearing letters you’re not proud of. What this all comes back to, is there shouldn’t be a chapter that needs to discuss PR strategies outside a bar in Rome.

We use these rumors as excuses. They become something to hide behind, a reason to give up.

Your school newspaper doesn’t hate your Greek community, your University has nothing against you. A newspaper is going to report on news, you have no one else to blame for the material they’re given. An argument regarding new University regulations tends to overlap with a conversation boasting about how Greeks are more responsible and prepared for life. It doesn’t add up.

Living in Rome, I am surrounded by Greek mythology, which inspired much of Roman history. What, and who, our community is named after is far more inspiring than what we allow ourselves to get away with. What each letter of our chapters represent is so much more than where exchanges will be held or what they’ll be called. Or at least it should be.

If these are the standards we continue holding ourselves to, there will be no reason to be in the loop.

Now, the chances of my new BFF remembering this encounter aren’t the highest. However, it made me realize that regardless of any title or role, I will always have a place in this community. Leadership isn’t only defined by exec boards and committees, but also by the times you decide to not change the topic.

You’ve probably noticed that most people studying abroad create blogs.

They detail their exotic adventures and reflect on culture shock, while others live vicariously through each post they peruse. But why did most of these world travelers never blog beforehand? From what I have noticed it seems to be one or more of five reasons.

So, why don’t you, still living in the US, have a blog? Why will most abroad bloggers stop writing once they return home?

Here’s why-

1. Your lives aren’t interesting

Everyone thinks it takes living in another country to have something valuable to write about, let alone share.

The reality is, if you don’t think your life is unique enough for you to detail the events or for others to read about it, why is that the life you are leading?

People are made up of stories and experiences just as much as we are of cells.

No one has seen the world (the small town, the college campus, etc.) exactly as you have. Everyone is an expert in something or has insight to share, it’s only a matter of recognizing that in yourself.

2. No one wants to read it

Blogging is a vulnerable hobby. You think, “Who am I to assume anyone wants to read this?” Well, who are you to assume no one cares about your point of view? Or maybe you worry, “If people read this out loud, it’s going to sound cliche and cheesy.” Why yes, yes it probably will. But at least someone’s reading it.

People are naturally nosy and curious about those who surround us. We yearn for the opinions, experiences and humor of others. People will read it.

And the best part is- once they do, you won’t care.

3. It’s a waste of time

Like most of my habits, we can probably trace this one back to all the yoga. I love to reflect and find deeper meanings, connections and value in everyday occurrences.

So I can’t really understand how people could find doing just that as a silly use of time.

Communication, writing especially, is one of the most powerful things we are able to do. Fine tuning writing skills through grammar, finding a voice and developing a point of view will always be worthwhile, regardless of occupation.

It also doesn’t hurt that something of value that displays your intelligence and curiosity will surface next to the picture of your drunken keg stand when employers Google your name.

4. You have nothing original to say

Maybe you don’t.

But that’s what makes blogs relatable. They are written by real people, not paid researchers looking to share findings in encyclopedias. They don’t need to be on new topics, but rather just a new perspective.

Our majors, living situations, schools, families, and upbringings make how we experience each day, even the most mundane event, completely original.

Think of all the various news shows, and try to say you can’t interpret the same event in different ways. Furthermore, each one of them has a blog (not sayin, just sayin).

5. Everyone has a blog, you’re over it

Do you think people considered not writing books because there were already a lot out there?

As we continue to move to a more digital age, blogging is a way to be engaged. Instead of just reading and sharing all these pages on Facebook, you could also be creating them.

Experience with various digital and social media skills are becoming essential, and will only make you stand out to employers, especially if your blog is regarding topics in your field of study.

Ultimately, whether you choose to blog or not is up to you. All I ask, is that you take the time to reflect, appreciate and enjoy each and every experience you are so incredibly lucky to have. Taking the time to value and make the most of each day is something that doesn’t necessarily require a public blog, or a semester abroad.

While in Verona and Venice over the weekend (casual), I realized many conversations I was having continued to circle back to the future.

Families, internships, bridal parties, full-time jobs, changing careers and so on.

Hopefully not in that order.

While this remains a common topic of conversation for all twenty somethings with college graduation on the horizon, being surrounded by the Dolce Vita creates a different perspective.

While in Venice, we visited Murano and watched a glass-blowing tutorial and created jewelry with glass beads. The most interesting part of this was hearing the history behind the man creating beautiful vases, pitchers, animals and more.

He had been practicing glass blowing since he was 12 or 13, which is the norm for the profession. It’s not something that requires a college degree and is rarely a first generation pursuit.

The men are trained by their elders and perfect the skill as they age.

And by the men, I don’t mean the over-arching term for people. When asked if there are any female glass-blowers, the man responded, “No, women can’t do it. They aren’t strong enough.”

Hm. Keeping in mind the differences between cultures and traditions, we’ll skip the feminist rant for now.

However generalized, his words are still powerful.

Without attempting to, he provided a snapshot of the Italian workforce. Careers tend to be decided by family tradition- who you know isn’t a plus, it’s everything.

Even though we may be lost and confused, pressured about what’s to come next, we at least all have a choice regarding what career we are pursuing. For the most part, family professions and more importantly, gender, won’t dictate what paths we take. We also don’t need to make decisions in fear of the alarmingly high unemployment rate awaiting the other side of failed endeavors. Although it might not feel like it, we have the wiggle room to take chances.

Recently, I fell in love with the wise words of Julius Caesar that state, “As a rule, men worry more about what they can’t see than what they can.”

We become so obsessed with the future, the unknown, that we forget to make the most of the ephemeral present. Maybe that was the pure intention behind the god awful #YOLO movement, but I think it goes past any cliche saying.

Everything becomes a search for something that already exists, rather than a quest to create new opportunities. We take pictures without knowing the captions, replace but never attempt to fix, and Google before we test our memories.

Worrying about what’s around the corner, we forget to take in everything that is in front of us now. Classes seem pointless as we await real jobs, yet the homework we avoid and the lectures skipped may be what provides the upper hand one day.

While tradition can be associated with old-fashioned, Italian’s appreciation for the classic and pure methods of all things- from food to textiles to glass blowing- is something to be admired. Whether it’s because of their secure future in the family business or acceptance of the mammoni life, they’re able to wait patiently for the future; while they enjoy and truly learn from the present.

Nothing compares to strolling out of an interview in complete confidence. 

Only issue is, today I was completely confident that I did not get the internship I was interviewing for.

That may sound presumptuous and negative, but as Haley, Danica and I entered our group interview for a potential internship, we were greeted by employers expecting fluent Italian speakers. We awkwardly informed them that was not us, and like any three strategic communications students, talked up and spun our strengths to the best of our abilities.

Based on the lack of eye contact, sighs of disappointment and phrases like, “I am going to have to see” and “I think the decision is pretty clear,” we have a feeling our pitches didn’t quite cut it.

It’s actually entertaining that earlier in the day I thought my decision between wedges or flats would actually matter (wedges prevailed as always).

It’s obstacles like these that can make you doubt your capabilities in a different culture, language and country. While I wrote news releases on a weekly basis at St. Jude, the reality of the situation is, I’m not ready to do that in Italian.

However, it’s also obstacles like these that make you appreciate the things you can do, and teach you to celebrate the small victories. Here’s some of things that have become wildly exciting in the eternal city:

1. Running errands

About two weeks ago, I bought tape and I still haven’t gotten over it. The quest for Scotch-esque tape was a difficult one seeing as there aren’t places like Target & Walgreens/CVS that carry everything under the sun. Finding this specialized supply store was a win in itself, but to make it even better, my entire interaction at the store was completely in Italian. So rewarding.

2. Hosting

Considering shopping for our apartment is one of my biggest stress-releasers, you could say I’m a bit of a natural host (one of my many Mom qualities). This weekend was prime for hosting as I had two of my best friends visiting and was able to show them around Rome. Showcasing my favorite places and hole in the wall must-see’s made me feel like the love child of UrbanSpoon and Google Maps.

3. Street Interactions

Coming to Rome, I was very concerned about aggressive Italian men. Luckily, I have nothing negative to report back. Who doesn’t want to be greeted as “Bella” everyday by strangers and our to die for elder doorman, Bruno? Not complaining. Furthermore, I made someone laugh on the metro today with my Italian know-how rather than my lack thereof. Bliss.

4. Waking Up Before Rome

Unlike most Romans (or normal people), exercise is my one true love. So signing up for a half marathon in northern Italy sounded like heaven. Little did I realize, training in Villa Borghese early in the mornings would also offer me a snapshot of a different Rome. Workers clean the windows of vacant Via Del Corso high end stores, awaiting the stains of envious hands. The Spanish Steps are completely empty, the air is a cheerful calm and dog play-dates run the social scene. Swoon.

5. Becoming A Regular

Blame it on Cheers, Starbucks’ sharpie on holiday cups; whatever it is, everyone wants to go somewhere where people know their name. That’s why walking into Cafe Amore every morning and hearing, “Ciao, Sarah!” (Slight roll of the R included) is so life changing. Additionally, being recognized at yoga by the sweetest people is beginning to remind me of the sense of community I have at studios at home.

These little things add up and are able to outweigh the unfortunate instances like getting lost, being sick or feeling impatient. And while I worry about finding summer internships back in the US, I am now reassured remembering that I can in fact fluently speak, and even write news releases, in the expected language.

After the obvious cues of taking selfies on the metro or in front of the colosseum, butchering Italian phrases and walking around with one’s eyes glued to a map, there is a sure fire way of spotting a tourist.

They’re not Italian.

With my fingers crossed, I hope to be so integrated in Italian culture that I shame the “ugly-American” persona. Unfortunately, even with my new eurochic poncho, I still have one small thing working against me.

I’m not Italian.

Living in the US for my whole life, I never really thought about the variation in ancestry, races and personal styles that surround me. Here, people don’t describe their nationality with fractions and what sounds like a roll call at the UN. They’re Italian.

Discovering this cultural difference and appreciation for American diversity explains why I was so surprised and disgusted by headlines following the Superbowl.

I was unable to watch the Super Bowl, but I dedicated some quality should-be-studying-for-Italian time to catching up on the commercials, which I always look forward to. I love seeing how companies decide to present themselves as a brand and how they strive to forge a sustainable connection with people they have never and will never meet. I love seeing how advertisements can, in 40 seconds, mirror our cultural norms, values and stances on social issues.

So, when brands like Coke and Cheerios do just that, and receive such a degree of backlash, it’s appalling. I could go on a tangent about each advertisement’s strategies, but the point is the underlying message of diversity. The same diversity that I am admiring from a country that I can’t slip into the cracks of, based on German and English heritage. 

I don’t have anything to share with anyone who has an issue with interracial families, Americans who speak English as a second language, or any of the realistic dynamics displayed in these commercials. The chances of these bigots landing on a blog post that would inspire them to love everyone are slim to none. The chances of it being this one, even lower.

But what I can share, is a different perspective inspired from a different country. I can share my appreciation for numerous races being united by the title “American.” I can share my hope that ads like these will always be celebrated, and that people won’t hesitate to speak out against wrongful racism and ethnocentrism, even if it is just in one blog post.

I am the queen of taking on as much as I possibly can. A typical day for me in the US is jam-packed with productive activities, workouts, homework and seeing friends.

I remind my yoga students the value of being present, unplugging, and slowing down; yet I never fully take this on myself. Even though we have been here less than a week, I have found the pace of life in Rome to be easily the greatest difference between here and the US. Here’s why those Romans might be onto something-

1. Carpe Diem

Romans take their time to do everything. The internet is slower, everyone makes meals fresh rather than microwaving a frozen dinner and a repair man coming at 3 p.m. might mean 7 p.m.

However, this value of time is reflected in the beauty of the buildings, monuments and sculptures surrounding the city. You could spend hours in each must-see every week and still discover something new. Furthermore, you should.

This city was meant to be enjoyed and admired. The more present you are in every adventure and experience, the more there is to remember.

2. More Patience & Compassion

Normally, tentative start times would drive me up the wall. In the US, class starting at 10 a.m. means most students will be there by 9:45 a.m. Let’s just say that habit doesn’t translate.

However, professors not responding to emails instantaneously and stores being closed more frequently is a humbling reminder that people have lives outside of yours. Here, there is a point where work stops and life begins.

While waiting for friends at the metro, I discovered more room for understanding. Instead of thinking they’re late, I bet they overslept, that’s so like them, I found myself not even thinking of optimistic excuses for why they were late. Rather just admiring the city, enjoying a cappuccino and truly waiting patiently.

3. Real Conversations

In the US we are accustomed to fast food, hour-long sit down dinners, and wait staff politely hinting at the exit. Here, fast food is still made fresh, dinners last for many hours and the bill only comes upon request.

Throughout these “long” dinners, I have found the conversation never dulls and the question of what time is it? becomes irrelevant. Italians will stay for hours after eating, conversing on a level that goes past the superficial.

The other day when overwhelmed with the understandable need for a crepe, instead of getting it to-go, I stood at the counter and ate. This is very common in cafes, regardless of who you are with.

So as I stood by myself, iPhone out of sight, I realized how much more present I was. I began practicing my Italian with the barista. Holding up my knife and fork, I asked “Come si dice?” He taught me the new vocab and laughed as I attempted the Italian accent.

Taking the opportunity to slow down allows you to meet new people in places you would normally never look.

4. Routines Filled With Simple Pleasures

As Romans commute to work each morning, there is not the same chaos we associate with rush hour. These tentative start times allow them the luxury of going into their favorite cafe and sitting down for a cappuccino.

While that may sound expensive, the 90 cents I’ve spent at Cafe Amore each morning before class has created one of my favorite traditions. The owner, Fabio, greets us every morning and helps us learn Italian as he repeats the name of pastries and corrects my french pronunciation.

It’s the little things.

5. Because You Can

Maybe all the yoga gives me an advantage, but somehow my Type-A tendencies make me think if I can embrace this lifestyle, anyone can.

I’m sure you found that finding the time to Skype with a friend, enjoy a book or try something out of your comfort zone always seems impossible at first, but is always worth the effort. Making time for what you enjoy and what energizes you makes faulty wi-fi’s, late friends and unpredictable bus schedules much easier to cope with.

There will never be enough time or money for anything, unless we begin to see more value in experiences, memories and truly living in the moment.