tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5417427991797040732024-02-19T05:51:01.515-08:00Gonzaga-in-Cagli 2012Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger56125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-541742799179704073.post-59415599580667715852012-07-22T05:53:00.001-07:002012-07-22T05:53:20.837-07:00Loudness<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcXDu4znbAn7FjC_DiXuHBrRKhmuM4Cptls0FaEsDgTYBpwKi3zyDBKbxxqnC9HthJY55uzOrZFVSG0Uu9Xsd5WDVV0G0iTK42LpkPhMA0kdeK4U_8irrcmDRYIzNFulBKtIqkh82dgEU/s1600/WEBER+Elizabeth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcXDu4znbAn7FjC_DiXuHBrRKhmuM4Cptls0FaEsDgTYBpwKi3zyDBKbxxqnC9HthJY55uzOrZFVSG0Uu9Xsd5WDVV0G0iTK42LpkPhMA0kdeK4U_8irrcmDRYIzNFulBKtIqkh82dgEU/s200/WEBER+Elizabeth.jpg" width="133" /></a>by <b>Libby Weber </b><br />
What is the deal with all this noise pollution?? I understand that we are living in compact housing, the streets are narrow, neighbors are close, and all the stone walls and hard surfaces reflect noise of any kind. But what’s with the acceptance of loudness at the most inappropriate times of the day? I am the only one that thinks normal sleeping hours are generally 11:00pm to 7:00am? Apparently so. I hear kids screaming long after midnight, boisterous conversations starting at 4:00 in the morning, and obnoxiously loud and high pitch squeals of moped motors any time in between. It doesn’t matter which day of the week it is either. Do they really need to dump all glassware in the recycling bins in the middle of the night? My only saving grace is that the bakery outside my window is closed on Sundays, so I don’t have to get up at 3:45am and close my shutters. If this I was this loud at home during these times, I’d have neighbors that would be giving me dirty looks, local police stopping by asking me to ‘keep it down’. I don’t think two weeks here in Cagli will give me enough time to understand or adjust. And here’s the real kicker….I got shushed and scolded in a foreign language by an Italian women two floors above me for having a phone conversation in the street at 11:00 on a Saturday night! What?!? C’mon…Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-541742799179704073.post-55591051881760481102012-07-22T05:52:00.000-07:002012-07-22T05:52:11.076-07:00Sidewalks, Bike Lanes, and Cobblestones<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXjO5qsBO9V75lEBr_Ps2oZl0p_fnrE2oHmTD-bCdYYhtWsWBFNOVDbot-BYnc1wIZt9wuC45Zt30FqSnPa2i6K3-fIMckhrX6Ba-zRwgg61CNyjNCb9KZKhmIElyAQrizya49KAG4BU/s1600/SHANNON+Lori.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXjO5qsBO9V75lEBr_Ps2oZl0p_fnrE2oHmTD-bCdYYhtWsWBFNOVDbot-BYnc1wIZt9wuC45Zt30FqSnPa2i6K3-fIMckhrX6Ba-zRwgg61CNyjNCb9KZKhmIElyAQrizya49KAG4BU/s200/SHANNON+Lori.jpg" width="133" /></a>by <b>Lori Shannon</b><br />
The little town of Cagli was destroyed in battle in 1287 and rebuilt in 1289. People still live in houses that are over 400 years old. The village and its residents have survived famine, earthquakes, and epic snowstorms.<br />
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So have the tiny streets that wind in and out and up and down the hills of Cagli. They are paved in cobblestones and are just wide enough for a single compact car to squeeze though. There are no sidewalks or bike lanes. Pedestrians and cyclists must share the narrow one-way streets.<br />
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But this doesn’t create problems – everyone patiently waits their turn to cross the intersection. Despite having a car whiz by you, it’s not alarming. You know the driver has navigated these roads for years and has expertly steered his car avoiding anyone on foot or bike. He’s also not driving a gigantic SUV that weighs eight tons and has multiple blind spots.<br />
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In the United States, roads are constantly being widened to accommodate more and more vehicles. Sidewalks and bike lanes are everywhere – as a child you’re told to stay on the sidewalk and never walk in the street. Cyclists cling to the bike lane for safety – many drivers are distracted and accidents involving crashes between cars and bikes are too common. Eating, drinking, texting and talking are more important that paying attention to the road for many American drivers.<br />
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It’s nice to be in a place were widening streets to add lanes for more cars isn’t an option. Here everyone on the road must get along. In Cagli, the cobblestones and tiny roads don’t discourage people from walking and riding their bikes.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-541742799179704073.post-79908686337384649662012-07-22T01:50:00.002-07:002012-07-22T01:50:29.920-07:00Volume in the Piazza<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjydSgIxy7efAg77mN_iqwU9QlAziZAp-qHWfAb2uqgqf_C9XY3zGNRfd1kKbRbjUuGZsHS9HX5fzvAdFLpJPp2cFzfdoEZ6_zcd6E3YZ4Rf4sVNa_Mq2z4VgyrxGiMxynBDiSpdFL9toM/s1600/WARD+Christy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjydSgIxy7efAg77mN_iqwU9QlAziZAp-qHWfAb2uqgqf_C9XY3zGNRfd1kKbRbjUuGZsHS9HX5fzvAdFLpJPp2cFzfdoEZ6_zcd6E3YZ4Rf4sVNa_Mq2z4VgyrxGiMxynBDiSpdFL9toM/s200/WARD+Christy.jpg" width="133" /></a>by <b>Christy Ward</b><br />
In the time that we have been in Cagli, it is interesting to be able to realize the small things that have become more apparent of how we, as American citizens, stand out in different ways. One of the things that has stood out to me more and more recently as we sit and enjoy a glass of wine or gelato in the piazza is how loud our group is compared to the Italian people around us.<br />
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Our group of students, families and instructors enjoy gathering and creating an ever-growing table that some of the locals join in on. It is a fun time of conversation and a time to wind down after our day of work to debrief or share our experiences and thoughts. This is probably not so unique as compared to what many of the other families do, but what I have noticed is that the volume of our conversations is generally much louder than all the other tables.<br />
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It is not uncommon for people to begin to talk or laugh louder as more people join in or there is a point that we want to share in the conversation with others. I now have begun to notice looks and curiousity from other tables as our volume escalates. I am at the point that it has become a bit of an embarrassment. I don’t want to be disrespectful to this community that has so openly and warmly welcomed us, and so as I observe it strikes me that this is a point of dissonance.<br />
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Even sitting quietly at a table in the piazza it can be unusual to be able to hear a conversation from an adjacent table. Rarely can you hear a child being fussy or argumentative with their parents. They appear to generally be well mannered and quiet. A similar scenario in the United States could often be louder and more chaotic. This is certainly something in my future travels that I will have a heightened awareness of.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-541742799179704073.post-82321915085473432432012-07-19T01:21:00.004-07:002012-07-19T01:21:52.312-07:00Flow of Life<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0I6G5owQsBpqhxt9dq0goTcLwTr9yPUu4hn9vmUbAfKdwsHMVHUHFwuj_gyAm3DgISpe9WZyYIX0C4TXz-fNwRZTizbLSpmbZiMQgpyitBaEEDKH3XNoMOWFHLglol7ywMjQMO2CU6X8/s1600/HAFER+Heather.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0I6G5owQsBpqhxt9dq0goTcLwTr9yPUu4hn9vmUbAfKdwsHMVHUHFwuj_gyAm3DgISpe9WZyYIX0C4TXz-fNwRZTizbLSpmbZiMQgpyitBaEEDKH3XNoMOWFHLglol7ywMjQMO2CU6X8/s200/HAFER+Heather.jpg" width="133" /></a>by <b>Heather Hafer </b><br />
A quote from The Doors “Ride the snake…until the end of time” keeps coming to mind as I continue to experience the natural flow of life in Cagli. Life flows as naturally here as the Bosso River just north of town. The Cagliese do not attempt to control time or anything for that matter.
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Each day I visit Mimi’s café where I order an espresso from Mimi who greets me with a friendly “Buon Giorno.” People drink coffee together while watching out over the piazza or quietly reading the newspaper. Often people sit quietly content in the presence of one another. There aren’t people rushing about with paper to-go cups of over-sugared coffee-flavored drinks in sizes that could serve an entire family. People simply have one coffee, cappuccino or espresso and, should they need another boost of caffeine in a few hours, they simply return among friends to share another.
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Meals are not rushed. There may be a 30-minute wait for the eggplant Parmesan or lasagna being made fresh in the kitchen and if asking for the bill, the staff may wonder ‘what’s the rush?’
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Meetings with people may change to new times and often do. Scheduled events often are not at any specific moment in time. Often, things are not what they seem. And the most amazing part of it all is that it all works out perfectly.
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If we simply have faith in the natural order of things, and let life meander as it may, we find that we truly enjoy the ride.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-541742799179704073.post-39424866439274713162012-07-19T01:20:00.002-07:002012-07-19T01:20:53.854-07:00The third bowl<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS_GK3ChXt40_b1TaonsBA1EuZY5Fc_LI2kLYmrNhDL6k9gCoMziiXSp5RDG5dbwkvlxOQwAiO53HHRqmkruuFg0invrQuqt1W3gmUry7WVdgiDy_4ZHzWLkVppX2P54S1U4OFTjlRmwQ/s1600/RUPERT+Molly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS_GK3ChXt40_b1TaonsBA1EuZY5Fc_LI2kLYmrNhDL6k9gCoMziiXSp5RDG5dbwkvlxOQwAiO53HHRqmkruuFg0invrQuqt1W3gmUry7WVdgiDy_4ZHzWLkVppX2P54S1U4OFTjlRmwQ/s200/RUPERT+Molly.jpg" width="133" /></a>by <b>Molly Rupert</b><br />
It was time to find out just why there is a third porcelain bowl in the bathrooms here in Cagli and most of Europe. Bowl #1- the sink. Bowl #2 - the toilet. Bowl #3 - the bidet.
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The unusual looking contraption, with its multiple water spouts and shower-like attachments, is a standard in every restroom. American’s stretch bathrooms to fit larger showers and tubs, Italians add the third bowl.<br />
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I wasn’t sure how to use it beyond a general idea of how it worked. There is no manual and no instructions printed on the side of the bowl. So I did what anyone would do, I Googled it. There are MANY instructions in multiple formats, but the cartoon was my favorite. There are a lot of different ways to say bum! <br />
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After I stopped laughing, I got ready, took a deep breath and turned on the water. I made sure it wasn’t too hot… I like those parts down there and burns didn’t sound pleasant. <br />
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When the water was just the right temperature, I sat and let the bowl do it’s magic. I moved the spigot here and there to make sure I got the full experience. Sure enough, everything got wet.<br />
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Getting the water on your bum isn’t the problem _ the bowl does that for you _ but getting the water off and your bum dry is trickier. It takes some work. Toilet paper sticks _ a lot _ and there would be significantly more laundry if you used a towel each time you used the bidet. <br />
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While it was an interesting “cultural experience,” I am going to keep my big shower and leave the bidets here.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-541742799179704073.post-4096236284324184952012-07-19T01:19:00.000-07:002012-07-19T01:22:35.117-07:00Combining work and pleasure? No…!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS-qmCFY0Asd6e6eqA-yzUZoy9V9rYheRh4ad5VF_XnuEvuFQtbsLiXDn3kNbvS-C0b4F57Qg7kBb0LZp78q7Y_kS5OhVcxXxkYRUIi6BfvtULMYSS-AGyMtfVkvVxZlTjmJcgtmy_pdA/s1600/WILSON+Darlene.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS-qmCFY0Asd6e6eqA-yzUZoy9V9rYheRh4ad5VF_XnuEvuFQtbsLiXDn3kNbvS-C0b4F57Qg7kBb0LZp78q7Y_kS5OhVcxXxkYRUIi6BfvtULMYSS-AGyMtfVkvVxZlTjmJcgtmy_pdA/s200/WILSON+Darlene.jpg" width="133" /></a></div>
by <b>Darlene Wilson </b><br />
A funny thing happened to me on the way to the piazza. Okay… at the piazza. It was the morning of our first Italian quiz, approximately 7:10 a.m., and as dutiful new students of the language we crammed words and phrases into our brains before we slept, perchance to dream of les mots italiens (hang on that’s French)… parole italiane… (that’s italiano) …a.k.a. “Italian words.” We even used home-made cue cards to reinforce the key words and phrases that Giovanni introduced in class—hopeful that this quick study method would be the ticket to an A on the test.
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With cappuccino and breakfast treat in hand we gazed across the piazza for…hmmm… about 10 seconds. “Ready to study?” I say to Shelley. Out came the cue cards.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMALsmxgM-gXQzxPWIfgLeZMmP6bliNYX0K1k6oyiPypwDAhzEqiaZoSBRc3zQ-f0bR4WF2ueDAWtd6cRolrV1WpZr9O-dUta6T7yT4yVL6nQIQu0DBhG4buCoaoFFrEkSN7DnNhxGoJs/s1600/darlene.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMALsmxgM-gXQzxPWIfgLeZMmP6bliNYX0K1k6oyiPypwDAhzEqiaZoSBRc3zQ-f0bR4WF2ueDAWtd6cRolrV1WpZr9O-dUta6T7yT4yVL6nQIQu0DBhG4buCoaoFFrEkSN7DnNhxGoJs/s400/darlene.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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As the cappuccino cooled nicely (I find it’s already lukewarm when served) we shuffled through the deck of cards: Prime Minister? Mario Monte. Or President? It’s hot! Fa bello! How are you? Com’e sta? Nice to meet you. Piacere. My name is…. Me chiamo, Darlene.
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There was a stirring from the table next to us, then a chuckle. Two elderly gentlemen pointed and smiled. Are these ladies crazy? This time is not for work…it is for awakening…greeting the day and each other. Nothing can be SO important that you must interrupt this social time to work. Americani!
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Ahhh… but they don’t know the aroma of a freshly earned “A.”
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p.s. We’re pseudo-Americani!…known here as Canadese. ☺Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-541742799179704073.post-2868063063992910072012-07-19T01:15:00.001-07:002012-07-19T01:15:08.274-07:00Dots on a Map<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUiinIm9_t7w-OEDrileZg_nTn0Mvha4A_8GdSRjxSSeum3x3s2XGwRXnijCvE-O3DhxaJrGUo_gMWPteUVJJXx6OYo0pwJyJ4Ngne5USdTd1AKadxGfQPhjEPPlleyAGQp-1VkNig0dw/s1600/ROARK+Chris.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUiinIm9_t7w-OEDrileZg_nTn0Mvha4A_8GdSRjxSSeum3x3s2XGwRXnijCvE-O3DhxaJrGUo_gMWPteUVJJXx6OYo0pwJyJ4Ngne5USdTd1AKadxGfQPhjEPPlleyAGQp-1VkNig0dw/s200/ROARK+Chris.jpg" width="133" /></a>by <b>Chris Roark </b><br />
You won’t find Cagli, Italy brochures in the front window of your local travel agent’s office. As a matter of fact, when using Google Earth, it’s a barely visible “dot” on the northeastern side of Italy. And, when you’re actually in Cagli, the small dot feel is real – home, and all the things we are so familiar with in the U.S., feels a million miles away.<br />
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Yet, everywhere I turn, there are people wearing t-shirts, sunglasses, hats, shorts, and flip-flops with American flags, slogans, phrases, and logos. It seems the U.S. is quite popular with people in the Le Marche region of Italy. Maybe it’s a new fashion fad or trend. Maybe it’s been this way for a while. Or, maybe not.<br />
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No matter, the dissonance is real. One moment you are lost in time in a charming foreign land, the next, you are reminded of the massive influence we have on the rest of the world – even in those barely identifiable little dots on a map…Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-541742799179704073.post-72366254330312685532012-07-19T01:13:00.005-07:002012-07-19T01:13:55.965-07:00Fiat 500L<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXjO5qsBO9V75lEBr_Ps2oZl0p_fnrE2oHmTD-bCdYYhtWsWBFNOVDbot-BYnc1wIZt9wuC45Zt30FqSnPa2i6K3-fIMckhrX6Ba-zRwgg61CNyjNCb9KZKhmIElyAQrizya49KAG4BU/s1600/SHANNON+Lori.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXjO5qsBO9V75lEBr_Ps2oZl0p_fnrE2oHmTD-bCdYYhtWsWBFNOVDbot-BYnc1wIZt9wuC45Zt30FqSnPa2i6K3-fIMckhrX6Ba-zRwgg61CNyjNCb9KZKhmIElyAQrizya49KAG4BU/s200/SHANNON+Lori.jpg" width="133" /></a></div>
by <b>Lori Shannon</b><br />
CNN is reporting that the next model of the Fiat 500L <a href="http://news.blogs.cnn.com/2012/07/16/debate-brews-around-espresso-machines-in-new-fiat/">will include an option never before seen in a car - an espresso machine</a>. The news story says, "The 500L is the first standard-production car in the world to offer a true espresso coffee machine that utilizes the technology of the 'A Modo Mio' pods," <a href="http://www.fiat.com/cgi-bin/pbrand.dll/FIAT_COM/news/news.jsp?contentOID=1075969695">the company said in a press release</a>. "It is perfectly integrated in the car with a deck designed expressly by Fiat."<br />
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This seems like such an odd idea for an Italian company to think of because you don’t see Italians eating on the run or getting a coffee to go. When you ask a barista for a coffee to go, they look at you odd. In Italian culture, sitting down to enjoy a meal or a coffee is the norm. “Take out” and “to go” don’t exist. Since Fiat is tied to the America carmaker Chrysler, maybe this brilliant idea came out of Detroit, not Torino.<br />
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While this may seem like a feature that American car consumers would appreciate, according to the CNN report the car is scheduled for release in Italy, not North America. However, backlash about the idea was over safety and that was from Americans. It will be interesting to see if this new option affects Fiat’s sales.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-541742799179704073.post-39569543290105849782012-07-19T01:10:00.000-07:002012-07-19T01:10:07.476-07:00The Bridge<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS_GK3ChXt40_b1TaonsBA1EuZY5Fc_LI2kLYmrNhDL6k9gCoMziiXSp5RDG5dbwkvlxOQwAiO53HHRqmkruuFg0invrQuqt1W3gmUry7WVdgiDy_4ZHzWLkVppX2P54S1U4OFTjlRmwQ/s1600/RUPERT+Molly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS_GK3ChXt40_b1TaonsBA1EuZY5Fc_LI2kLYmrNhDL6k9gCoMziiXSp5RDG5dbwkvlxOQwAiO53HHRqmkruuFg0invrQuqt1W3gmUry7WVdgiDy_4ZHzWLkVppX2P54S1U4OFTjlRmwQ/s200/RUPERT+Molly.jpg" width="133" /></a>by <b>Molly Rupert</b><br />
The Italians recycle - a lot. This is not a new concept to them like it is to us in the Western world. They reuse things over and over and over again. Most of the buildings are hundreds of years old. Yes, they have Internet (when it works), lights and modern bathrooms, but the structure of the buildings remains the same. They use what they have until they can’t any more. Their first thought isn’t to destroy the building and build a new one, but how to improve the one they have and make it better for their purposes.
There are exceptions. Old and New Cagli are separated by a bridge. It’s a nice bridge, in a modern ”I’m only 60 or 70 years old” sort of way. But on the left, down below the “new” bridge is one that was used for years - about 2,100 years. The Romans built it over 2,200 years ago. Legionnaires walked across it. Great names in history may have lingered there to view the water. It survived multiple wars, famines, floods and other natural issues.<br />
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It was still used until the 1950s.
But it couldn’t survive the big trucks. According to Prof. Giovanni Caputo, the bridge was replaced because big trucks couldn’t cross. The goods being transported would be unloaded and hand trucked across the bridge into Cagli. So a new bridge was built.
The Roman bridge still sits there, resting for more than 60 years. It was used enough.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-541742799179704073.post-69448690240574233612012-07-19T01:08:00.001-07:002012-07-19T01:08:13.184-07:00Conservation<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgJQjBoUMQ7QUJZaDxTr-9m-GBucxqnoSywSshIGSzNykyix5mxp2puCrQKzmef9cazgRrV4k1CczbpUVlktG2dLNLiVI03RprDIpYs7H8nDNOXMlA7Y__PzlJNPtqAHEv-_6ve2W-WSE/s1600/GING+Tracy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgJQjBoUMQ7QUJZaDxTr-9m-GBucxqnoSywSshIGSzNykyix5mxp2puCrQKzmef9cazgRrV4k1CczbpUVlktG2dLNLiVI03RprDIpYs7H8nDNOXMlA7Y__PzlJNPtqAHEv-_6ve2W-WSE/s200/GING+Tracy.jpg" width="133" /></a><b>
by Tracy Ging</b><br />
“Non piace?” I am asked again and again by waiters who shake their head and tsk, tsk as they take away my half-eaten pizza. It’s not that I don’t like it; I just can’t eat a pizza double the size of my head. Sadly, I often waste food when I eat out. That’s not something I’m proud of, but I am also not a fan of eating five times what my body can comfortably hold. Yet in the U.S., no one gives it a second thought. I have never registered scorn from a waiter for not cleaning my plate. My impression of Italians is that in general, they consider it foolish to waste. From their careful use of electricity, to bikes or smaller and more fuel-efficient cars, or craftsman industries like shoe repair, there seems to be a concerted effort to conserve. As I hang my clothes out to line-dry, I think about how on earth I would find the time to do my laundry this way at home. But I am also reminded that productivity doesn’t necessarily mean efficiency.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-541742799179704073.post-38523003525154513482012-07-19T01:07:00.000-07:002012-07-19T01:07:10.305-07:00Shopping<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0I6G5owQsBpqhxt9dq0goTcLwTr9yPUu4hn9vmUbAfKdwsHMVHUHFwuj_gyAm3DgISpe9WZyYIX0C4TXz-fNwRZTizbLSpmbZiMQgpyitBaEEDKH3XNoMOWFHLglol7ywMjQMO2CU6X8/s1600/HAFER+Heather.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0I6G5owQsBpqhxt9dq0goTcLwTr9yPUu4hn9vmUbAfKdwsHMVHUHFwuj_gyAm3DgISpe9WZyYIX0C4TXz-fNwRZTizbLSpmbZiMQgpyitBaEEDKH3XNoMOWFHLglol7ywMjQMO2CU6X8/s200/HAFER+Heather.jpg" width="133" /></a>by <b>Heather Hafer</b><br />
My roommate Libby and I completed our first shopping trip at a small grocery store near the piazza. Pleased that we had managed to find most of what we were searching for, including fresh mozzarella and frizzante, we headed up to the cashier to pay. Believing we were waiting in line, we watched a mother stroll her infant up to the cashier to buy diapers. We watched a woman purchase a small item. We watched two nuns meander in front of us to pay for a few items. Surely a nun would not cut in line, I thought. We may still be standing there were it not for the cashier motioning us to move up to the counter. This line we were attempting to recreate was one formed by culture. In American we wait in lines. The Cagliese confidently approach the counter when they are ready to check out and participate in natural order, bending like a willow in the wind.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-541742799179704073.post-68107009149971677772012-07-19T01:04:00.000-07:002012-07-19T01:04:03.050-07:00Pronunciation<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiawFZdSJtvN6dq0oicHlY8HBt4kEps4fVHYsMRSQpF2Anvvuc2bdxBDiDKSylGabbOusiW6wH8-36pODZLpu9IrcYy_kjDIYApuW68s1nyhQX1yE3Tn6nwLF8fTyttO2Aec-0MHlYdaU4/s1600/GUITON+Jessica.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiawFZdSJtvN6dq0oicHlY8HBt4kEps4fVHYsMRSQpF2Anvvuc2bdxBDiDKSylGabbOusiW6wH8-36pODZLpu9IrcYy_kjDIYApuW68s1nyhQX1yE3Tn6nwLF8fTyttO2Aec-0MHlYdaU4/s200/GUITON+Jessica.jpg" width="133" /></a>by<b> Jessica Guiton</b><br />
The morning after arriving in Cagli I entered a cafe and ordered a cappuccino. I told the woman behind the bar “un cappuccino, per favore.” She understood what I wanted and began making my drink. I noticed an old man sitting in the corner who was laughing at me and when I looked at him he said, “CAP-pu-ccino, CAP-pu-ccino.” He was obviously correcting my pronunciation despite the fact that I said the word clearly enough that the person I was actually talking to understood my request. I smiled, laughed, and repeated the word in the same manner as the old man but this incident really made me think once I sat down to enjoy my coffee. All I could thinking was, “who the heck is that guy and who is he to laugh at me and correct my Italian pronunciation.” I don’t think I have ever observed a situation in the states like the one I experienced in Italy. In fact, in most places in the US if a complete stranger tried to correct another person for something as minuscule as the pronunciation of a word I would say that nine times out of ten a verbal argument would ensue.<br />
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I’ve heard from other classmates who have similar stories from their time in Italy so I find it very interesting how in this country they are so particular about the pronunciation of words and will take the time to correct you, while in the US if we can understand what another person is saying, despite that it might be incorrect, we just let it go. My guess is that a lot of it has to do with the big hurry everyone in America seems to be in. It takes time to correct a person and give them a mini-lesson in English, time most people don’t think they have, so they just forget about the mistake and move on.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-541742799179704073.post-51110968225139628202012-07-19T01:01:00.005-07:002012-07-19T01:01:56.175-07:00Building in Italia<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJM-kjDYzHVagrE-70NFs5CX8xFXbiQUR2wcV7TiCa_dDKxZFpPVS3GKsiAQcEmrqsysBf5KvZdKlZZ_kyNhA76GfWsq4VMlNRJQXKfyb43attGh996mf1MXwB-76k-XVrF49O9vnSasA/s1600/SVEBDAHL+Shelley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJM-kjDYzHVagrE-70NFs5CX8xFXbiQUR2wcV7TiCa_dDKxZFpPVS3GKsiAQcEmrqsysBf5KvZdKlZZ_kyNhA76GfWsq4VMlNRJQXKfyb43attGh996mf1MXwB-76k-XVrF49O9vnSasA/s200/SVEBDAHL+Shelley.jpg" width="133" /></a>by <b>Shelley Svedahl </b><br />
At home in Saskatchewan the construction of a new house begins with excavation. Step one: dig a big hole. The next steps are setting the forms and pouring the basement. The solid concrete basement walls are lined with 2 x 6’s for energy-efficient housing.<br />
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Here in Italia the foundation is constructed by piling building blocks one-on-top of another. Void spaces are filled with concrete. The process is extremely labor-intensive and involves mixing the cement on site and using a trowel to scrape the cement where it is needed. During this process, the structure is supported by a series of metal posts.<br />
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One of the first questions a buyer would ask when considering the purchase of an older home in Saskatchewan is “Is the foundation concrete or cinder block?” Older homes were built with cinder-block foundations, but that was a long time ago. In today’s market those homes are considered a poor investment because of the potential for movement or shifting with the clay-based soil and freezing and thawing weather conditions.<br />
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The soil must be significantly different here in Italia. Many of these homes date back several centuries so obviously this method of construction is appropriate to this region.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-541742799179704073.post-79016672423001124972012-07-19T01:00:00.004-07:002012-07-19T01:00:35.056-07:00Market Day in Cagli<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNLWIEHCupE0uN3FqpwRv6DA_uhIdcxIz4ScHlErq9Jf8R5a-GDg8HeLmNmo4FEXLrR-0eYn0kzKD0pDzUMTpBgpobud-hDP9lXhQDHaIsgW-j9vP7UG4TJvUC6_IdiVDdPdPr7RwmTyU/s1600/TELEZ+Jill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNLWIEHCupE0uN3FqpwRv6DA_uhIdcxIz4ScHlErq9Jf8R5a-GDg8HeLmNmo4FEXLrR-0eYn0kzKD0pDzUMTpBgpobud-hDP9lXhQDHaIsgW-j9vP7UG4TJvUC6_IdiVDdPdPr7RwmTyU/s200/TELEZ+Jill.jpg" width="133" /></a>by <b>Jill Tellez </b><br />
Every Wednesday in Cagli, vendors come to sell their wares. Instead of shopping at a mall, Cagliese’s have the mall brought to them. There was definitely no shortage of shoe and clothing vendors, which at one point they all began to look the same. With some guided navigation through the narrow streets, you can find a fresh fruit and vegetable section including plants and flowers. In the US, this would be the equivalent of a combined flea market and farmer’s market. The one glaring thing that was missing was prepared food vendors or perhaps a lack of variety in food vendors.<br />
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There are two vendors who do come and clearly have reputations are stellar among the regulars: the fried fish wagon and the pork sandwich wagon. Business at the two wagons was steady with a clear demand for their specialty. Unfortunately, those were the only two choices for food besides the existing local restaurants and many of them are only open for dinner. Once again, thinking like an American capitalist, it seems as though an opportunity for additional revenue was lost by the local restaurants by not opening early for the occasion or by not providing a food wagon for additional variety. In the end, it appears to be more customary for the locals to shop for their wares and have their lunch back at home during pausa.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-541742799179704073.post-33759175074766657882012-07-19T00:59:00.000-07:002012-07-19T00:59:05.554-07:00To Stay<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzFRuiUzN1PLKWRDax3et-BJ8TmaLw3U5GU_Ac8Lw4RhQI846TsVc2inqz4pzMudeYeAtOVW0qdct0x1yAF8P0mG57llEpAR2SZYJkWadwf5ErZ-3f2aBXYaHZG-S5STS7LkYBwVW_QAc/s1600/LOPEZ+Christopher.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzFRuiUzN1PLKWRDax3et-BJ8TmaLw3U5GU_Ac8Lw4RhQI846TsVc2inqz4pzMudeYeAtOVW0qdct0x1yAF8P0mG57llEpAR2SZYJkWadwf5ErZ-3f2aBXYaHZG-S5STS7LkYBwVW_QAc/s200/LOPEZ+Christopher.jpg" width="133" /></a>by <b>Chris Lopez</b><br />
When I first came to Italy I found it very difficult to see any cultural differences. Perhaps this is because the majority of my traveling experience has been in Asia. Taking that into account, Italian culture is relatively similar. Now that I've been here for a while I'm beginning to notice a few differences.<br />
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One thing that I seem to be having a rough time wrapping my mind around is the inability to order anything “to-go.”
When you order something in Cagli, Italy you sit there and eat it. I’m not exactly sure why we as American love our styrofoam packaged food, but we do! We love to eat on the go. Perhaps we are busier than the Italians. Either way, I am starting to enjoy the experience of staying at the Café while I eat.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-541742799179704073.post-54562660714814423732012-07-19T00:56:00.001-07:002012-07-19T00:56:43.636-07:00It’s Not What You Say… It’s How You Say It…<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS-qmCFY0Asd6e6eqA-yzUZoy9V9rYheRh4ad5VF_XnuEvuFQtbsLiXDn3kNbvS-C0b4F57Qg7kBb0LZp78q7Y_kS5OhVcxXxkYRUIi6BfvtULMYSS-AGyMtfVkvVxZlTjmJcgtmy_pdA/s1600/WILSON+Darlene.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS-qmCFY0Asd6e6eqA-yzUZoy9V9rYheRh4ad5VF_XnuEvuFQtbsLiXDn3kNbvS-C0b4F57Qg7kBb0LZp78q7Y_kS5OhVcxXxkYRUIi6BfvtULMYSS-AGyMtfVkvVxZlTjmJcgtmy_pdA/s200/WILSON+Darlene.jpg" width="133" /></a>by <b>Darlene Wilson</b><br />
I think I’m a pretty empathetic person. I try to choose my words with some care—especially in a foreign culture. Today…apparently—not carefully enough.<br />
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Here’s the setting. Several tables pushed together—bottles of local vino rosso and vino bianco shared amongst locals and students. Jovial conversation as we discussed the next day’s market.<br />
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Lucky enough to be seated next to two native Cagliese, I piped up to show off my italiano.<br />
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“Markato?” I offer. It came out a little louder than I’d anticipated. My Italiano amici (friends) cringed... looking left, then right. “Shhh. Shhhh.” They crouched down and leaned in, apparently for secrecy. “It’s not the right word.”<br />
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Of course I knew that I had sinned…but what had I said? Since I’m a visual learner—out came the pen and paper. My interpreter ignored this… a pen and paper was too slow for this explanation, this faux pas!<br />
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He told me that my “interpretation/pronounciation” of the word might have two meanings… none of them meaning the communal sense of the market occurring in Cagli tomorrow. The first one he acted out, and it came across as a couple of key words: sheep… and branding. That made sense: marking or branding. The other interpretation? Well let’s just say that that one involved some serious shaking of his head, a little muttering under his breath, and a comment regarding women and unmentionable activities.<br />
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And just when I’m starting to feel comfortable.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-541742799179704073.post-52671683322022341402012-07-19T00:54:00.002-07:002012-07-19T00:54:47.905-07:00Mirrors<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjydSgIxy7efAg77mN_iqwU9QlAziZAp-qHWfAb2uqgqf_C9XY3zGNRfd1kKbRbjUuGZsHS9HX5fzvAdFLpJPp2cFzfdoEZ6_zcd6E3YZ4Rf4sVNa_Mq2z4VgyrxGiMxynBDiSpdFL9toM/s1600/WARD+Christy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjydSgIxy7efAg77mN_iqwU9QlAziZAp-qHWfAb2uqgqf_C9XY3zGNRfd1kKbRbjUuGZsHS9HX5fzvAdFLpJPp2cFzfdoEZ6_zcd6E3YZ4Rf4sVNa_Mq2z4VgyrxGiMxynBDiSpdFL9toM/s200/WARD+Christy.jpg" width="133" /></a>by <b>Christy Ward </b><br />
It is interesting to realize how vain it may be to discover a dissonance in the use of mirrors in the United States compared to what I have seen in this part of Italy. In the majority of restrooms and establishments it is interesting to note the lack of a mirror being present in most areas including bathrooms. It is also interesting to recognize my own internal reaction to the inability of being able to check my hair or general appearance as I’m washing my hands to return to activities.<br />
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It makes me wonder why this has become such a necessity in our own culture and / or why the same does not exist here in Italy. Is it that we are so engrossed in what our culture has deemed acceptable or attractive that we have to ensure that we attain a certain standard of physical acceptability at all times? Part of this may be how the American culture has evolved through media and so perhaps the culture in this part of Italy has not experienced as much of an influence at this point. Or maybe there is more of a sense of self-acceptability here that does not recognize the need for this personal moment. It has been an interesting observation and reflection regardless.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-541742799179704073.post-40339017599142611302012-07-18T00:42:00.001-07:002012-07-18T00:42:19.885-07:00Portions<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Js4r7_aOHRSHqwzabqL7UMGG6etSGyiTsrlsz2jWXXw07lhyphenhyphend7o9ygRWWYYRqv8K3kbtKLHTqwH6Ou7jTHg2A9vPjQ8HLQGDaiqrcCD4c-CyYHXi9AtzKC3oSZzsvbwFiRxJwTX9JRM/s1600/ALBA+Kim.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Js4r7_aOHRSHqwzabqL7UMGG6etSGyiTsrlsz2jWXXw07lhyphenhyphend7o9ygRWWYYRqv8K3kbtKLHTqwH6Ou7jTHg2A9vPjQ8HLQGDaiqrcCD4c-CyYHXi9AtzKC3oSZzsvbwFiRxJwTX9JRM/s200/ALBA+Kim.jpg" width="133" /></a>by <b>Kim Alba</b><br />
Every time I buy food and drinks in Italy, I observe the difference in the portions served in Italy and in the U.S. In the U.S., the size of food and drinks served anywhere has grown radically over the decades. I still remember the time before soda came in plastic bottles for a single consumer, when the 12 oz. aluminum can ruled the refrigerator shelves at the convenience stores. Nowadays, we have soda being sold in 24 oz. bottles. The label may say that the contents are for two or three servings, but the American consumer sees this bottle as a “super sized” serving for ONE person. In Italy, the plastic bottle is smaller. Soda is also sold in a much thinner aluminum can.
At restaurants, the only item I’ve seen served in a large portion is the pizza. But the pizza has a thin, crispy crust and isn’t loaded down with cheese. Everything else looks small on the plate — at least to my American eyes. The one time I ordered dessert after a dinner of grilled lamb and mixed salad at Osterio Sant’Angelo in Cagli, the warm, dense chocolate cake was smaller than my fist — and as a short person, I have petite hands.<br />
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Despite what looks to be smaller portions of food and drinks, I end up fully satisfied.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-541742799179704073.post-39077621503629764782012-07-18T00:41:00.000-07:002012-07-18T00:41:07.729-07:00Day Planners<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcXDu4znbAn7FjC_DiXuHBrRKhmuM4Cptls0FaEsDgTYBpwKi3zyDBKbxxqnC9HthJY55uzOrZFVSG0Uu9Xsd5WDVV0G0iTK42LpkPhMA0kdeK4U_8irrcmDRYIzNFulBKtIqkh82dgEU/s1600/WEBER+Elizabeth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcXDu4znbAn7FjC_DiXuHBrRKhmuM4Cptls0FaEsDgTYBpwKi3zyDBKbxxqnC9HthJY55uzOrZFVSG0Uu9Xsd5WDVV0G0iTK42LpkPhMA0kdeK4U_8irrcmDRYIzNFulBKtIqkh82dgEU/s200/WEBER+Elizabeth.jpg" width="133" /></a>by <b>Libby Weber</b><br />
As we soon approach the end of our first week in Cagli, I can’t help but still notice some fellow students (names not need mentioning) feverishly updating their day planners and calendars with various schedule updates – appointments with faculty, details on day trips, etc. Some pages are even tabbed or marked with highlighter, all color-coded and nicely organized. Although I myself do not keep as detailed notes during this trip, I can’t help but continue to create “check lists” throughout the week – just a way to keep my assignments and deadlines on track. At times I even find myself craving post-it notes. But then I sit around the piazza in the morning or in the evening, and as a people-watcher I study everyone else around me. Other than the loud and obnoxious Americans (and some, Canadians) that tend to get riled-up, no one else is pulling out such ludicrous contraptions such as day planners. How in the world do these Cagliese folks keep track of their day? What if they miss a very important meeting? Or an appointment with another Cagliese that ALSO doesn’t have a day planner??<br />
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As my time lapses here in Cagli, I begin to understand that maybe it really is just foreign to be so diligent of your schedule. Maybe I won’t need those post-it notes after all. But I am keeping my eye on you fellow students – keeping track if the highlighter usage rate will start to decrease…Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-541742799179704073.post-71240235834448312832012-07-18T00:39:00.001-07:002012-07-18T00:39:40.542-07:00Socializing<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw1H1QcRrT5M_pChQliJNgMlpjthcxo-Xx18uQ02DkyFU98XclACWwrmX9-FZhC2_CiDZ0NH27WXVFQ60GKy6td6W__rp09flcSL3zLGKkEWMqaUZlDwtwgK52mgEscRMuo1J5xQEfKK0/s1600/COOPER+Jael.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw1H1QcRrT5M_pChQliJNgMlpjthcxo-Xx18uQ02DkyFU98XclACWwrmX9-FZhC2_CiDZ0NH27WXVFQ60GKy6td6W__rp09flcSL3zLGKkEWMqaUZlDwtwgK52mgEscRMuo1J5xQEfKK0/s200/COOPER+Jael.jpg" width="133" /></a>by <b>Jael Cooper</b><br />
In Cagli, everyone seems to socialize in the piazza after dinner has finished, even the children. The evening is the time they get together and see how their friends and neighbors have been doing and what they have been involved in that day. In America this time does not always exist, but when it does it is reserved for the daylight or early evening hours. You will not find groups of people eating gelato and drinking wine right next to children kicking a soccer ball. The world of children and the world of adults do not mix so easily. In the American town I grew up in, for example, a few families may gather at one house and spend the early evening chatting while their children are off in the backyard or the playroom. If the adults were to be out together in public, the children are most likely handed off to babysitters who typically feed them and get them into bed before the adults get home. There is a separation of family life that, in Cagli, seems to be more about the integration of friends and children than the boundaries of time and space.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-541742799179704073.post-30793839766982254562012-07-18T00:38:00.001-07:002012-07-18T00:38:23.796-07:00Late Night<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif_hKFsWw55xSNHmJDc44spJ4vOzbSggs44SXuG5-Uos_GSu8V927xkXMPieoegDiqunmkiM636zUrtt_xZ0wiO54aI_Fl8mX6_URMyoE_dOgpJMval6dCrLlzvFec2S5IDBLTPJfUh_w/s1600/SKOOG+Karen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif_hKFsWw55xSNHmJDc44spJ4vOzbSggs44SXuG5-Uos_GSu8V927xkXMPieoegDiqunmkiM636zUrtt_xZ0wiO54aI_Fl8mX6_URMyoE_dOgpJMval6dCrLlzvFec2S5IDBLTPJfUh_w/s200/SKOOG+Karen.jpg" width="134" /></a></div>
by <b>Karen Skoog</b><br />
Getting used to different times when you travel is more than just jet lag. In fact, jet lag can be the easiest part of the change. You can usually adjust your internal clock after a few days of long naps at odd hours. A bigger mismatch for me is the late night, fairly loud activity in the streets on most nights here in Italy. The houses are closer together, there is less vegetation to absorb the sound and entire families just stay up later, a lot later. My memories of late summer nights outside tended to last until the sun went down unless we were “camping outside” and even as an adult I am not outside much late at night. Here in Italy, outside activity goes on well past midnight, even on the weeknights. Since I am tend to go to bed earlier than that, it can be difficult to sleep when there are major conversations going on in the streets. The ability to stay up late outdoors can probably attributed to mid-day pausa, pleasant temperatures during the late hours and smaller houses where people entertain and socialize less at home and more in communal places. Definitely an adjustment.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-541742799179704073.post-73961581364461218892012-07-15T01:49:00.003-07:002012-07-15T01:49:51.993-07:00Your Last Stroll<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS_GK3ChXt40_b1TaonsBA1EuZY5Fc_LI2kLYmrNhDL6k9gCoMziiXSp5RDG5dbwkvlxOQwAiO53HHRqmkruuFg0invrQuqt1W3gmUry7WVdgiDy_4ZHzWLkVppX2P54S1U4OFTjlRmwQ/s1600/RUPERT+Molly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS_GK3ChXt40_b1TaonsBA1EuZY5Fc_LI2kLYmrNhDL6k9gCoMziiXSp5RDG5dbwkvlxOQwAiO53HHRqmkruuFg0invrQuqt1W3gmUry7WVdgiDy_4ZHzWLkVppX2P54S1U4OFTjlRmwQ/s200/RUPERT+Molly.jpg" width="133" /></a>by <b>Molly Rupert</b><br />
To walk or not to walk? That is the question Italian tourists must ask themselves. Unlike California, and much of the United States, pedestrians do NOT have the right of way here. That was learned quickly when the cabby in Florence almost hit a man. The man jumped out of the way, arms flailing. A swear word springing from his lips (some words don’t need an interpreter).
The cabbie used the international hand symbol for “stupido” _ the shaking fist _ before racing off to find the next unsuspecting pedestrian.
So be cautious where you walk. It just might be your last stroll.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-541742799179704073.post-16289417020609161722012-07-14T08:54:00.000-07:002012-07-19T00:58:12.854-07:00The Miscommunication at the Caffe<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzFRuiUzN1PLKWRDax3et-BJ8TmaLw3U5GU_Ac8Lw4RhQI846TsVc2inqz4pzMudeYeAtOVW0qdct0x1yAF8P0mG57llEpAR2SZYJkWadwf5ErZ-3f2aBXYaHZG-S5STS7LkYBwVW_QAc/s1600/LOPEZ+Christopher.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzFRuiUzN1PLKWRDax3et-BJ8TmaLw3U5GU_Ac8Lw4RhQI846TsVc2inqz4pzMudeYeAtOVW0qdct0x1yAF8P0mG57llEpAR2SZYJkWadwf5ErZ-3f2aBXYaHZG-S5STS7LkYBwVW_QAc/s200/LOPEZ+Christopher.jpg" width="133" /></a>by <b>Christopher Lopez</b><br />
The word “Café” or “Caffe” in Italian, is pretty much a universal term when referring to an establishment that sells beverages made from coffee beans. Your average American on a summer Euro-trip may me a bit surprised when they enter a European café. In Italy for example, these “Caffe’s” more closely resemble a bar than your neighborhood Starbucks. The walls are lined with a variety of wines and spirits. The person across the counter serves as both a barista and a bartender.<br />
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While visiting Cagli Italy I experience a humorous miscommunication with one of these establishments. As an American I find it very odd that alcohol and coffee are served and consumed in the same location. My mind naturally separates the two beverages into the times of day I feel these beverages are normally consumed. In the United States coffee or espresso is a drink for the morning. Also, in the United States alcohol is a drink for the evening. The consumption of alcohol too early in the day is even a taboo.<br />
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When I entered this café in Cagli I entered with presuppositions of what a café was. I walked up to the man and asked for two espressos and one latte. He looked mildly confused and repeated “two ‘espritzers’ and one latte?” Now, I am aware of what a spritzer is. I figured “there is no way that this barista would mistake an espresso for spritzers.” A few minutes later the man handed me the one latte and the two light alcoholic beverages I had apparently ordered.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-541742799179704073.post-31009118241389667522012-07-14T08:49:00.003-07:002012-07-14T08:49:48.430-07:00Coffee<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNLWIEHCupE0uN3FqpwRv6DA_uhIdcxIz4ScHlErq9Jf8R5a-GDg8HeLmNmo4FEXLrR-0eYn0kzKD0pDzUMTpBgpobud-hDP9lXhQDHaIsgW-j9vP7UG4TJvUC6_IdiVDdPdPr7RwmTyU/s1600/TELEZ+Jill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNLWIEHCupE0uN3FqpwRv6DA_uhIdcxIz4ScHlErq9Jf8R5a-GDg8HeLmNmo4FEXLrR-0eYn0kzKD0pDzUMTpBgpobud-hDP9lXhQDHaIsgW-j9vP7UG4TJvUC6_IdiVDdPdPr7RwmTyU/s200/TELEZ+Jill.jpg" width="133" /></a>by <b>Jill Tellez</b><br />
Given that I begin every day with a cappuccino, I frequent many of the local cafés for my daily fix. With a language barrier and no Starbucks menu to choose from, just ordering what you want can some times be a challenge. I finally learned how to get what I want on the first round – cappuccino con due caffe’ dopio. The bigger challenge for me is to understand their ordering and paying system. The café owners are so trusting – they serve you your order, let you sit as long as you like and trust that you will go in and pay on the honor system. In some ways it’s similar to the US in that we wait for a bill at a sit down restaurant, but as a counter service café, such as Starbucks, I can’t conceive of them allowing people to pay when they after they are done and ready to leave.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-541742799179704073.post-77587244272900151002012-07-14T08:48:00.000-07:002012-07-14T08:48:11.752-07:00Parenting<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXjO5qsBO9V75lEBr_Ps2oZl0p_fnrE2oHmTD-bCdYYhtWsWBFNOVDbot-BYnc1wIZt9wuC45Zt30FqSnPa2i6K3-fIMckhrX6Ba-zRwgg61CNyjNCb9KZKhmIElyAQrizya49KAG4BU/s1600/SHANNON+Lori.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXjO5qsBO9V75lEBr_Ps2oZl0p_fnrE2oHmTD-bCdYYhtWsWBFNOVDbot-BYnc1wIZt9wuC45Zt30FqSnPa2i6K3-fIMckhrX6Ba-zRwgg61CNyjNCb9KZKhmIElyAQrizya49KAG4BU/s200/SHANNON+Lori.jpg" width="133" /></a>by <b>Lori Shannon
</b><br />
Parents in the United States are commonly advised against giving newborns pacifiers. If a baby is given a pacifier, parents are told to wean them off of it as soon as they can. It’s rare to see a toddler or small child running around sucking on a pacifier. Sitting in the piazza, I noticed several children that were at least five or six-years-old running around with a pacifier. Even while playing, they kept their pacifier encased firmly in their mouths.<br />
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Another difference in parenting styles is on smoking. If an American parent smokes, he or she is often judged and shamed. Mom or Dad may continue to smoke, but often refrain from doing it around their children. In Italy, parents smoke with little regard to how it may affect their children or anyone else sitting near them. Smoking in public is more acceptable and it seems like there are generally more smokers in Italy.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0