Weeks 33, 34, 35 & 36; 26-6-22
Hello, friends!
Well it seems as though we've shifted to a 4-week newsletter schedule. Which means I'll be sending 1 more, right at the end of my time here. (Maybe one more after that with final final reflections, we'll see.)
Much has happened since I sat, jetlagged, on the floor of Ananya and Shreya's apartment in New York 4 weeks ago. I reflected on reverse culture shock, reconnected with so many Vassar 2020 alums, reflected on reverse reverse culture shock, experienced very intense jet lag while being present for my final days of teaching, attended the Fulbright end-of-grant conference in Rome where I contracted COVID, experienced COVID, and adesso mi sto riprendendo! I have many fun adventures planned for my final weeks, but my #1 priority is being present in this place, with these people. It will never be like this, exactly like this, ever again.
I've decided not to dedicate too much space in this newsletter to my trip to Vassar (although it was a beautiful whirlwind and I'm clinging dearly to every detail of every interaction), since it is not technically a part of my experience here in Mondragone. However, what I will say is that it was well-timed in that a) it marked the shift from teaching time to goodbyes-and-looking-forward time, b) it was a reminder that the seemingly unbearable distance from my people is close enough to being over that it's now bearable, and c) reverse culture shock is going to hit so hard in July.
My thoughts on COVID, however, get center stage. I wrote this last Friday (while very feverish still, good thing I did not try to send this a week ago):
"Welcome to the newsletter, COVID EDITION!!!!!!!
After 2 years and 3 months, it's my turn. I will include some screenshots of messages to friends in my final set of photos to capture the ways that COVID has made my sense of humor a little more dry and punchy. But thankfully my symptoms have been mild, and my 4-day fever broke this morning.
[Correction: it hadn't actually broken, it came back hours later and broke on Saturday.]
And, of all the mid- to high-risk decisions I've made in the last year since being vaccinated (multiple concerts, including a few indoor ones; non-essential international travel; Vassar's in-person, indoor grad event, to name a few), the thing that did me in was my end-of-grant Fulbright conference. I will say, I looked fantastic while actively being infected with COVID. More importantly though, the conference, much like my trip to America and the official end to the school year, have facilitated my mental transition into the Getting-Ready-To-Put-Closure-On-This-And-Transitioning-Into-What-Comes-Next-While-Also-Enjoying-Vacation-In-The-Meantime phase of this grant."
To finish my feverish thoughts from last week: that last sentence just means that I've been applying to jobs -- so, so many jobs. Additionally, I hope you'll enjoy the worst baking fiasco of my life (I'm still cracking myself up about it). And, as we all are, I'm continuing to coexists with COVID! I was supposed to be four days into a hiking trip from Bologna to Firenze, but my hiking buddy tested positive for COVID on the day that I tested negative. I am also supposed to leave on Thursday for Paris, but the friend who is hosting me has a fever and is taking a test tomorrow morning. I guess I'll just have to come back!
Going out of chronological order to start off with a really strong one -- this is me, holding a glass of champagne, at the residence of the American Ambassador to Italy for a cocktail party with the Fulbright ETAs, grad students, and scholars. This is a photo I will look back on for a long time.
Rewinding! My day started off way earlier than planned because our (gorgeous, gorgeous) airbnb was on the main street in Trastevere which, as those who studied abroad there know, has a tram that runs almost all night. So I was awoken at 5 am and decided to run to the Vatican! This is the sunrise from the Lungotevere.
Then we all got ready and boarded the bus transfer to go to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. When we arrived, as we were being prepped on how to go through security, we were warned that everyone was a little "agitated" today about our conference. What a warm welcome!
After many sessions that ran over time, and a gluten-related fiasco, we got a tour of the art collection from a very enthusiastic, lively art historian/curator. This piece by Alberto Garutti translates to "Every step I've taken in my life has brought me here, now."
Then we were given our "bag" lunch in a very large, unwieldy box...
and directed to a room with no tables or chairs at which to eat. I was not present for this (see above: gluten-related fiasco), but was informed that a few people sat on the ground and were quickly told to get up and show some respect because "This is the Ministry of Foreign Affairs."
We managed to sneak in a full-ETA cohort group picture before being "invited to leave." Daria and I are holding a banana because a) nobody in our cohort was wearing green and we needed to complete the rainbow, and b) it was a running joke all day that everyone got completely green, underripe bananas in their "bag" lunches.
After the conference we took a taxi back to the airbnb and took turns doing photoshoots in our very aesthetically pleasing apartment.
And then we were off to the cocktail party!
Towards the end of the evening I simply needed to write, reflect. I was buzzing from all the social interaction, all the people, all the joy. I'm very grateful to Natalie and Matt for capturing this moment. Adding it to my collection of photos of me writing in various places in Italy this year.
Word Pictures
- My American reverse culture shock experience, in 5 examples: coffee that was not an espresso standing at the bar with a glass of water; a luggage tag from Neumann University (college in Delco where I went to preschool) on the suitcase next to me at check in in Rome; PA license plate spotted in my Lyft from the airport; the big green American highway signs; the smell of American garbage trucks in summertime.
- I was sad on plane to leave Italy, and sad on plane to come back.
- Once I got back, I was sitting at MY spot on the lungomare, sweating, and reflecting on all different weathers I’ve experienced in that spot.
- A dump of word pictures / moments from my goodbyes with my students: asking 3H what they will remember most from my lessons and their responding, "You!"; 2H crying when I said that this was our last lesson because they had forgotten that it was only a 1-year program; receiving a big big round of applause from 4I when I said goodbye on our last day (context: this is the historically disengaged class. They get in trouble often, and one way in which they rebel is by applauding and cheering loudly enough to disturb the classes around them. The teacher didn't interrupt this round of applause though. I think she understood that it was their language, their way of expressing genuine appreciation for me.); being told to "go run Mondragone" by the same class (they meant "run away from Mondragone" but I will gladly "go run Mondragone." I've been doing it all year!); interrupting a review game that included the question 'does Antonella like to run?' so that all the students could take turns telling me where and when they had seen me running in the last 8 months; as the students were walking out on their last day, hearing 'ci vediamo per strada,' 'we'll see each other on the street,' from multiple groups of students (they were right!).
- I almost getting hit by a car (for the first time in months!) because I was trying to get a bug out of my eye while running. May that be my last close call for a while.
- In the summertime, the old men who usually sit in the cafes and chat instead congregate in the piazza on their bikes, to the point of blocking the road and getting honked at, which leads to everybody yelling at each other in dialect.
- When Louis was here, I accidentally ordered him "fish juice" (pesce) instead of "peach juice" (pesca). The waitress laughed and corrected me.
- I went to get a haircut in Napoli at a salon recommended to me by my host mom (who has been present for all my haircut woes). It was a fantastic recommendation, but the vibe in the salon was not what I'd expected. All the stylists were hip (in the Southern Italy way, ick) 30 year old men. They were fascinated that I was American and living in Mondragone, and were fixated on the Rocky / Philadelphia connection. At one point, 4 of them were standing around me while my hair was being shampooed singing the Rocky theme song.
- An assemblage of images from Rome: a unicyclist juggling with fire in the piazza while drunk teenagers celebrating the last day of school moshed around him; drinking out of the sink of the bathroom in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs because they did not have water to offer us (video available upon request); the contrast of the prepared remarks of the Italian diplomats with the ad-libbed remarks of the American diplomats (the Italians laughed whenever the Americans spoke Italian); oh, and have I mentioned yet that I moved 40 people across the Rome in multiple cabs so that we could get drinks as a full cohort after the cocktail party?
- The bus from Mondragone to the train station has been a foundational aspect of my year. The bus drivers are adamant that you have exact change (1.30), and will not accept anything larger than a 5 euro bill. I realized after boarding the train in Rome that I had absolutely no change on me and only had a 50 euro bill because I'd made change for a friend that morning. And, once I boarded the train, there was no way for me to make change. Well that was not going to go over well with the driver. So when I got on the bus, I said "I need to ask a favor, I have no money on me at all," to which the driver responded "lucky you!" I continued, "But I have exact change at home. If you let me on the bus now, I promise I will be standing at my stop on your next pass with exact change." And he let me on (there is no other way to get back, he didn't have much of a choice). The only problem -- I didn't have the exact change at home, either, and it was too late to go to the store. So I called my host family and said "I have a weird request..." When I got back, the Nonni were waiting for me with the change. The Nonno seemed very worried (I think because I never ask for anything) and asked if I needed more money, if I was okay financially. I kept explaining that it was not a matter of finances and more a matter of the bus driver not wanting to make change. But they were very concerned regardless. 10 minutes later when I returned from the bus stop, they asked if it was "fatto?" and seemed relieved. I appreciate their care, and this was such a specific dilemma to have. Nowhere else that I've existed in the world would this be a problem.
- During my isolation, noting how much I've gotten used to and will miss soundscape of Mondragone. And then regretting that thought when I was feverish, headachey, and woken up from a nap hours later. I sent the following message to a friend: "The dog will not stop barking, the church bells won’t stop ringing, the vespas are so loud, and mass is being broadcast form the top of the church with a loudspeaker, except the microphone in the church cannot pick up the voices of the whole congregation so when it isn’t the priest speaking it sounds like a chair being dragged across a tile floor." I will miss it, though.
A list that my students made, without my help, of their favorite lessons with me -- this list includes almost every single lesson we did this year.
A snapshot of the "white board" during one of our final week of open-ended, conversation-based lessons. One of these things is not like the others! We started in one place (neoliberal capitalism, my starting point) and went in a very different direction (college parties, their redirection).
This was the whiteboard in my sophomore humanities class after we finished watching the NYTimes documentary on Britney Spears's conservatorship. My students are so smart!!
I saw this through the door of a classroom from the hall as I was walking to another class. Yes, that board does say "pesto pesto pesto pesto pesto." They were continuing to type it as I took the photo, and everyone was stifling laughter. This is up there on the list of the most Italian things I've seen this year. It's so quintessentially Italian that it seems like a non-Italian trying to be Italian.
My students' final concert. They are so, so talented.
Pictures after with some of my junior music students.
And my senior (in the American system, here they have one more year) music students. I did not get the memo that it was a Game Face TM photo.
Classic groupchat chaos. These are my sophomore music students. Of note: 2 Marios, "organizzazione al top," and the groupchat cover photo.
The groupchat cover photo, enlarged! This was not taken on our last lesson, just on a random day when I walked into the classroom, saw all my students with their sunglasses on, and put mine on too.
Final lesson with my humanities juniors. This was the class that got in trouble during schoolwide conferences because they would interrupt my lessons to tell me how beautiful they think I am. I always felt adored with this group.
Their empty classroom (I'm not crying, you are).
The portrait that my sophomore music students drew of me and gifted me on my last day, along with a 4-leaf clover. Context on the clover: when I did my lesson on St Patrick's day, I included that 4-leaf clovers are good luck (I also showed a Lucky Charms commercial). My students asked me if I've ever found one, and I said no. I told them how in elementary school during recess, we would sit in the grass and look for 4-leaf clovers, but I've never found one. It was a passing comment, but they made me a 4-leaf clover out of paper. I'm treasuring these forever.
Field Notes
I have not done a proper Field Notes in months, so some of these are quite old. I’m certain that I will continue to reflect on, analyze, and synthesize my reflections on these experiences for a very long time to come. But these are representative of where I’m at immediately following the end of the school year and still in the midst of my goodbyes.
- Before I jump into some of my notable interaction, I want to share an overview of my favorite recent lessons. Towards the end of the year I rarely actually had lessons with my students (field trips, exams, assemblies, holidays), so I did not want to start any big projects. They were also all very stressed with finals. So we did some light, easy, one-off lessons. I asked them to plan a road trip around America, which prompted lots of conversations about just how big America is and why it does not make sense to go from San Diego to North Carolina to Seattle to Florida, in that order. There is a photo below of the route of one group's trip. I showed them clips from classic MGM movies, and we talked about the evolution of film in relation to classical music (thanks, Mom and Dad for that trove of knowledge). I also had them write poems modeled after George Ella Lyon's Where I'm From poem. My students' poems are linked here.
- Okay first notable interaction. My co-teacher had asked me to help her insert the textbook ISBNs for the next year into a computer system that she did not know how to use. I followed her to a 5th year class, which I do not teach. While she and I worked at the computer, they chatted amongst themselves. It took us about 40 minutes out of a 55-minute lesson to enter everything. We finished, and the teacher stood up and asked the students if they were ready to take an oral exam. They all protested -- they didn't know they were being tested that day, and she had not given them the first part of the hour to study. A few started crying, and the rest looked intensely stressed. The teacher said they could choose to do an oral exam, or to accept a barely-passing grade. And when nobody responded, she began to enter the barely-passing grades for everybody. The crying intensified, but nobody said anything except to comfort their friends. I was sitting right smack in the middle of this interaction, both spatially and empathetically. While the teacher began to enter the grades, I pulled up a chair to where the students were gathered in the back corner of the classroom and asked if we could chat. I validated that the school system is so much more intense and stressful here than it is in America (they were nodding emphatically). I said that grades do not matter, and that what they learn and remember is more important than whatever number is being typed into their gradebook system. And then we changed the subject and talked about their life goals and aspirations and summer plans. THIS is what I am here for.
- My notoriously disengaged class was particularly disengaged and rowdy one day. The support teacher, who works with a student in the class who has Down Syndrome, followed me and the co-teacher out into the hallway after the lesson. I was talking with the co-teacher about how to engage them, about how that day had been particularly draining. The support teacher first reassured me that they are like this with everyone, but promptly followed it up with “but they are worse when Antonella is there.” She then said that it's because “the others are doing lessons,” as though my interactive, participation-based lessons, are not actually lessons. That one really stung.
- Along a similar vein, I have one co-teacher who is also an administrator. She is almost never in the classroom. One day, she stepped out to take a phone call and she returned 20 minutes later in the middle of a group speaking activity. She immediately bangs her fist on the table and screams, “RAGAZZI, SILENZIO!” I interrupted her to explain that I’d asked them to talk amongst each other for the lesson. She said “It doesn’t matter, this is lesson. They must be silent.” I was at a loss – I am there for conversation. I had no other lesson planned, so scrambled to find something for us to watch or for me to present on. I was stunned. And this is the administrator who is most familiar with the Fulbright program, with my role to encourage speaking! and! conversation! skills.
- In the same classroom, during the road trip project, one group decided to stop at the Jack Daniels whiskey museum in Lynchburg, TN. Keep in mind, these kids are 15. The teacher had made a whole show of wanting the presentations to be graded (I was thinking a very informal sharing-out, but then the stress of the presentation and the grades dragged the project out for an extra week while the students made gorgeous presentations and fretted over every word in their script which they read from verbatim. Boo, lost the opportunity for impromptu speaking.) So the teacher was listening very attentively, deciding what evaluation to give the students. Naturally, when they got to this slide, the other students and I began to chuckle. As before, the teacher turned on her heels and screamed “SILENZIO!” I was, again, stunned. These kids are 15, they spent over a year in isolation/lockdown, they are learning how to engage with one another socially. She is punishing them for human connection, for interacting with one another. She is punishing all that is good and exactly that which is lost in remote teaching. It made me very sad.
- She also stepped out during one of the presentations, which, as a reminder, she’d insisted upon grading, to take a phone call. And when she came back 5 minutes later, she asked the students to repeat their presentation from the moment where she’d stepped out. She also offered absolutely no affirmation or appreciation for their (truly, beautiful, painstakingly detailed) powerpoints.
- It did make me feel better that, during the final recital, she shushed the adult audience members with the same force that she shushes her students.
- To highlight the lack of compassion for students' stress manifested in a different way: I was in my notably disengaged class, and we were doing a group activity. I called on one student to participate, and she said, in an irritated tone of voice "Non m'interessa, sto studiando" -- "I don't care, I'm studying." The other students in the class were quick to jump in and reassure me "Ti vogliamo bene! non ti preoccupare, siamo tutti stressati" -- "We care about you! Don't worry, it's not you, we're all stressed." I was taken aback by the harshness of the comment, but realized it was yet another effect of the system, which discourages genuine engagement with the material in exchange for one's ability to recite information back verbatim. And this student was about to be tested on her ability to recite information verbatim, which was causing her stress.
- This one is very old: a terrible terrible, terrible pizza dinner with some of my colleagues. Phew, far too many details to share. Some highlights: I was toasted to and put at the head of the table as the guest of honor, and then not asked a single question or included in the conversation. The one time I tried to chime in to tell a story, I was interrupted (by a man). Everyone present was divorced, and the teacher who invited me is quite the one-man showman and dominated the entire evening. Ugh. But it was a significant moment which warranted mention here because I got some insight into how the teachers talk about their students. They have absolutely no empathy or compassion. They do not see them as little humans, but as insects (their word) to be corralled / subdued. They blame cell phones for all their life problems (even family members passing from COVID, which, obviously has nothing to do with whether or not a student is using a cell phone); they have no concept of students needing and receiving support from one another; and they said that the students who are "distracted" by their lives outside of the classroom are never going to be good enough students -- as though the only way to be a good student is by burying your nose in books and not engaging with the actual world. I haven't even touched on the blatant, explicit homophobia (a teacher mocking a queer male student who wears makeup) and the disparaging comments about students who were likely to be held back (the same one who lost a parent to COVID). I was disgusted, dissociating, and eager for the dinner to end. It was everything I hate about this system boiled down into one 3-hour evening.
- On the total opposite end of the spectrum: I have two "tutors" who are assigned to me by Fulbright to be my point people. One is the administrator/teacher who I spoke about above, and the other is a very very sweet lady who I've hardly seen since December. This second teacher was a substitute for one of my classes during the last week of school. While I was presenting the activity, I was surprised to witness how she interacted with the students. She would gently chide them if they were talking amongst themselves, asking "what are you talking about? do you have a question? would it be helpful to the class?" And if they asked me a question in Italian, she would suggest that they try asking in English, and help them with the translation (instead of harshly criticizing their English, as my other teachers have done). I needed to be reminded that teachers like this DO exist here, they are just few and far between. Then, once the students started working in groups, she and I got to talking. It was a lovely bookend on my time -- she was very present in my early days of settling in, and then dropped off since we do not work together directly. I was real with her, I said that it's been a difficult year. She, unprompted said asked if it was because my coteacher (the one who I wrote extensively about a few newsletters back) is a *fart noise* whose English is bad. Before I could respond she asked if it was also because the other coteacher does not like teaching and prefers to be an administrator and is harsh with the kids. My jaw was on the floor. She'd nailed it. She was shocked that I had no support on lesson planning or liaising with other teachers. She was also shocked that my other tutor never checked in on how I was doing socially, or on my difficulties with joining activities/ getting involved here in Mondragone. It was a lovely conversation, and at the end she gave me a hug and thanked me for being here. I had a glimpse into a different version of my year in Mondragone. And, I would not have traded this year for any other experience.
- Last one: since the school year ended, my only interactions with my students is when we pass each other on the street. And I'm always greeted with glee! Big smiles, eager waves. I will miss being recognized joyfully. For months, when people have come to visit me, one of the most notable things is how many students we run into every single time we leave my house. For as much as I've talked about loneliness this year, if my social isolation is the trade-off for getting to have made such an impact on these kids, I am okay with that. I cannot wait to see who they become.
We'll start w a funny one: my first day back in Mondragone after my trip to Vassar, I went for an evening run. I was on track for my fastest 10k on record. I had a half mile left when I rounded the corner and encountered a WALL of people, mostly children, wearing matching t shirts and praying in unison and carrying a statue of la Madonna along the lungomare. I was so disoriented, and confused, and tired. It felt like a dream. So naturally I proceeded to run through the crowd, against the flow of traffic. I did finish my 10k in time, to the sound of the mass on the beach being broadcast via megaphone (they like to do that here). And on my walk back home I could trace the parade route because the street was covered with rose petals.
I guess if you plan to close all the streets to have a procession that involves leaving a substantial trail of rose petals, you need to make a plan to clean them up -- especially with all the vespa and motorini.
This is scrippella. It's a dessert that they make only in Mondragone and only before weddings. The neighboring towns don't even have this tradition, and within Mondragone, there are only a handful of people who know the recipe. I'd been hearing about scrippella from my students since I'd arrived. On the Festa della Repubblica, I was walking out to buy a case of drinking water and encountered a small unattended child in the courtyard handing this dessert off to my host mom. She then gave the child money, and he beamed and scampered off to his getaway vespa. I had questions! After 8 months, I can answer them. Scrippella is essentially a funnel cake, but twice the size, and infused with lemon and cinnamon. But more than that, scrippella is an event. Obviously for the family making the scrippella (more on that in a second), but also for anyone who is on the list to receive one. So my water excursion was fully diverted to sitting in the Nonna's kitchen having coffee with her. She asked if I wanted to see how they made it, I said yes, so she called her brother-in-law. The call went like this: "Ciao Fra, how are you? Listen, there is a small American girl with short hair who wants to come see how they make scrippella. She's going to arrive on a bicycle. She speaks Italian, don't worry. But don't feed her anything! She can't eat it!" And then they said goodbye 6-7 times, and that was it.
And so I went! In case it wasn't clear from the photo above -- that is not a small dessert. It is the diameter of these massive vats of frying oil. Significantly larger than my face, maybe even my torso. I was given a neighborhood but not an address because I was reassured that I'd have no trouble finding the place -- they were right, I could smell and hear the event for blocks. This family had their entire driveway covered with tents, music blasting, people spilling out onto the sidewalk. They had these 3 vats, plus tables with beverages and other snacks, and a seating area. Then they had the loading area, where the children and their chaperones/drivers were going around delivering the scrippella to any family members and friends who were on the list. On the wall of the house they were crossing off names, and tracking how much money the children earned (there was a competition between the children). And, it's too small in the photo, but everyone is wearing t shirts and aprons with a caricature of the couple getting married and their wedding date.
Once again, for scale: a literal trough of dough. They keep making scrippella until it's empty. And once it's empty, everyone has a big lunch all together before cleaning up and packing up.
On the same day, in contrast to the energy of the scrippella event -- after 8 months of hanging all of my clothing out to dry, it finally happened. A bird pooped on my jacket.
Regina has found the coolest spot in the courtyard, as well as the spot where she gets the most attention. Lila is, once again, sneaking up on her.
Lila and I are similar in that we simply have too much energy. Here she is getting into trouble, trying to catch a fly. Small cat in a small tree!
I sat on this bench in Napoli and played music with a friend. We didn't realize until we got up after a few hours that it was the only red bench in the park, and that it said "Without women, there's no revolution." (With an exclamation point! I've never seen a bench plaque with an exclamation point. Very notable.)
Louis, my high school friend who is at CERN right now, came all the way to Mondragone for a long weekend! As is routine, we climbed the mountain. However, we made the mistake of going right at midday in 90 degree heat. You can see us grinning through the discomfort in this photo.
And then we went to Napoli where we went inside Castel Sant'Elmo -- the fortress at the top of my favorite part of the city. I'd never gone inside but it was my favorite view (the one I send pictures of often), except from even HIGHER.
As we were climbing inside the castle and I kept stopping to take photos, saying "It keeps getting better!"
The final view in question!
Admiring the resilience of this little plant growing out of the stone on the side of the very old castle on top of the hill. It found the one spot of shade/partial sunlight and it has the best view.
Aperitivo at my favorite bar in Napoli.
Spotted on our way to take Louis to the airport -- yes, that is a loaf of bread on the handrailing of a set of steps in the Rione Sanita`.Very Italian.
I will miss Mondragone dearly, and, I cannot wait to be more centrally located. This message thread with Louis made me chuckle because he'd assumed that the train station was not going to be a platform in the middle of a field connected to the town by a 10-minute drive on a narrow, one-lane country road.
And I have come to feel so fondly about said country road! When I was on my way back from Napoli, I felt the mountain greeting me, welcome me back, out the window of the little 12-seat van.
Continuing with my theme of marveling at things growing -- look at this cool yellow plant I found on my run this morning!!!! I'm sad to miss the months of August and September here. I want to experience a full year of Mondragone foliage.
And that tree near my house (the one that I sent pictures of when it was first sprouting leaves, not the gorgeous, big, bulbous one on the Viale) now has FLOWERS! It was one of the first things I saw when I left my apartment after quarantine and I was awestruck.
Okay, now for the COVID section. This was a message thread from my fourth day of isolation. The day before I'd made this video while having breakfast (featuring my very congested voice).
Ohhhh here we go. This. This was the highlight and the lowpoint of my quarantine. I am actually still chuckling to myself about it. A few weeks ago when Louis visited, we acquired a kilo of apricots. We had no idea what to do with them, so we froze them. The day after Louis left, I was gifted a second kilo of apricots. I'm already approaching the point where my cooking is determined by what in my cabinets and fridge I need to clean out, so I made it my goal to bake something with apricots while in isolation. I also established a goal to bake something with a recipe that contained eggs, since they are new to my diet. But, sigh I will skip to the end: Instead of making a "Simple Upside Down Apricot Cake," I made a full-on APRICOT OMELETTE. It tasted exactly the way it looks in this photo. (Disclaimer: I had ONE bite to verify that it was not an omelette-reminiscent cake, but was, in fact, an omelette.) In reflection, I've realized that the recipe wanted me to make a merengue, but, lacking a whisk, I was not able to stiffen my egg whites, and ended up pouring beaten eggs on top of my baked apricot base, instead of a merengue. Having never made a merengue before, I did not understand the error of my ways. I now fully understand the error of my ways and will be course-correcting by avoiding recipes in which eggs are the predominant ingredient.
This was a brief, fleeting moment of joy after I'd successfully flipped the upside down cake into another pan before realizing the gravity of my error.
Classic: ending on a sunset. I've enjoyed watching the sunsets move deeper and deeper into the mountains in my time here. I was sad to have missed the solstice. It was my last day in isolation.
Phew! Okay I think THIS was my longest one ever. And I will close with this: In the last few weeks, I've been in multiple settings where I've been asked, superficially, how Fulbright is -- like, the whole 8 months, but superficially. Now I'm not a fan of fleeting, reductive interactions. But, it is helpful to re-frame and articulate my rich experiences in a more bite-sized way (which, as you all who have been reading my lengthy updates for 8 months know, does not come easily to me).
So, I've got my Elevator Pitch down.
"Italy is overall good! There have been big ups and big downs. I'm more calm and well than ever before. The town I'm in is both geographically isolated and socially insular -- there are simply not a lot of young people in Mondragone who are looking to make new friends. So it's been a year of solitude and reflection. As far as personal transformation and introspection goes, we're almost level with my accident year. And I needed it! It shook me out of my COVID malaise. After lockdown and working from home, I really wanted this to be my young adulthood Stepping Out moment. It took a lot of time for me to accept that Mondragone is simply not the place to have a Stepping Out moment. However, I now feel so, so much more ready for that moment. Regarding teaching, my students are fantastic and the system is terrible. The best part of my time here, outside of the beautiful landscape, good food, and personal growth, has been my relationships with my students. They are so smart, and I feel very adored when we are all together. However, the individual teachers, and their methods, and the structure of the system as a whole does not set them up to learn with curiosity, engagement, or critical thinking. And that makes me sad, but I've learned a lot."
That's still a pretty long elevator pitch.
As of right now, I have exactly 3 weeks and 3 days remaining, and I am so not ready for it.
Con tranquillita` (and, as I said back in January, more antibodies),
Antonella
Appendix: Ground Rules
- This is a time for me of reconnecting with a number of practices that have been interrupted by the pandemic; by the 3-part-time-jobs, recent-humanities-grad, gig-economy work routine that I've just left; and by the inevitable ebb and flow of intersecting needs. This is just that -- a practice, a practice of connection, a practice of reflection, a practice of synthesis, a practice of perspective.
- This is not meant to replace my 1:1 interactions!
- This should serve me. There is no right or wrong way for me to structure these. Like my bullet journal, if the structure becomes cumbersome, it means my needs are shifting and I need to re-evaluate what I am including and how I am preparing to write.
- This is not a finished product, ever, by any standard. I will not fret over punctuation, word choice, or syntax. There are many spaces in my life where those things do matter, quite a lot, but they are not a priority here.
In case you missed it!
Here is the link to the archive of my past newsletters