Week #1: Embracing Culture Shock

It’s officially been one week since I’ve come to Florence and things have been wild. Every time I walk through the streets it feels like a surreal experience. I really can’t believe I’m here. Florence is my campus. That’s such a weird thing to say and yet such a privilege that I can even say that. Since being here, I’ve felt a slew of emotions, the majority of them being happy. I’ve already met some amazing people and have befriended kids from other schools as well. Amanda and I have walked through our neighborhood a handful of times and each time we discover somewhere new whether it be a new gelato place or an inexpensive clothing store. Discovering all these places though as meant a lot of walking. And I mean A LOT of walking. At the end of each day I like to check how many steps I’ve taken on my phone and it’s always over 10,000. I thought walking around campus is Syracuse was a lot, but I was sorely mistaken. It’s about a 20-minute walk to school every day which is decent compared to some of my other friends who have a 30-minute walk. The time is perfect for Amanda and I because we like to sleep in as late as possible before having to get ready for school.

Il Duomo di Firenze

Ponte Vecchio

My host family is really nice. I have my host mom, Paola, host dad, Piero, and two host siblings, Neri and Gaia. Despite Paola speaking minimal English, she’s still the sweetest and light-hearted person. She likes to laugh with Amanda and I and she cooks great, tasty food. Most nights she cooks us pasta and for breakfast she’ll put out biscotti and Nutella for us. Breakfast here is very light while lunch and dinner are the heaviest meals. For lunch, I’ll normally have un panino from a local sandwich shop. I might even have some gelato, too. So far, the best place I’ve been to is near the Duomo called GROM. What’s perfect about the school’s location is that it’s only about a 20-minute walk to the city center. Yesterday, Amanda and I had a 3-hour break between classes so we decided to go to All’Antico Vinaio, a famous sandwich shop that has four stores in a row because of how busy it gets! After about a 30-minute wait, Amanda and I finally got the best sandwiches of our entire lives. The sandwiches were only 5 euro and the size of our heads! I think this might’ve been the best meal I’ve had since being here. Even though we could barely finish our sandwiches, we still got gelato afterward. This was the first time I ordered food in Italian! I felt so proud of myself. The gelato was delicious, and they shaped it into a flower that was so pretty.

Despite all the great memories I’ve created here, though, I am starting to feel the effects of culture shock. I know all my feelings are normal, I mean, I just picked up and moved to a new country all considered. The most difficult part has been adjusting to the language barrier. It’s hard to walk into a shop and not be able to read the menu or quietly sit at dinner while my Italian family speaks rapid Italian around you. At times, I feel silly when Paola speaks to me and I can only answer her in a blank stare. I feel helpless when I can’t understand the self-checkout register at the supermarket. I know these things will soon become second nature to me. But, for right now, I feel frustrated when I can’t do the normal everyday things I would do with ease at home.

This entire experience makes me think of my Korean grandparents and how they must’ve felt when they first immigrated to America 45 years ago. Growing up, I’ve had the privilege of being accommodated for when it comes to language. My grandparents were always the ones who were forced to speak English around me and my siblings as children. When I was younger, I found it frustrating when I would try and speak to them and couldn’t get my message across. As children, we became accustom to speaking in broken English to them because it was the only way we could speak to them. Before the age of six, I was learning to comprehend what my grandparents would say in broken English and then translate it to telephone operators or to the cashier at Burger King. I always wanted to learn Korean, and it sounds horrible to say, but I never wanted to put the effort in I think because of the covert ethnocentric way Americans’ believe that others should learn English if they’re in America. This must be how Italians perceive abroad American students. Being in Italy as a foreigner, I now have a similar perspective of what it’s like to live in a foreign country and be completely unused to the local way of life. It’s now more than ever that I feel for my grandparents. It’s now my turn to step away from my native language and learn an entirely new one. I can only imagine that the Italian I can speak sounds like what broken English sounds like to me. It’s through this perspective of my grandparents that I have a newfound respect for the courage it took to venture to America. Here, I have my host family and take Italian classes to learn the language. My grandparents had nothing, and I admire them greatly for it.

The one word I would use to describe my first week in Italy would be zesty. Zesty: having a strong, pleasant, and somewhat spicy flavor; lively and pleasing; full of zest. This week has been exciting. I moved to a new city, met new people, and started my first week of class. It was fun to go out and be legal at a bar and to have the curious freedom to wander. The week was “spicy” because I was thrown into uncomfortable and demanding situations. Deciphering foreign menus, having a full-blown, on-the-spot Italian conversation in class, feeling vulnerable in the grocery story, all these moments were built up and then packed a punch when they hit. While uncomfortable, I don’t regret them. They were all learning experiences. I can only expect more moments like these, it’s only been a week.

Here's to another great week full of food and travel!

Love, Sam ❤