Week 1: Arrival, Orientation, Unpacking, and much more!

A new day dawns on the quaint town of Paderno del Grappa. Sunshine makes its way across marble floors and pillars with a slothful vigor. The quiet ting of the radiator is the only thing I hear as I awaken in my campus dorm room. The sun’s light extends a warm welcome to me, as though asking “Did you miss me?” to which I respond with a hearty grumble. I walk to the window, unlatching the metal shutters and swinging them outward. There is no screen of safety on these windows, and I lean out, grasping a cold metal bar to steady myself. The Dolomite mountains, who are part of the Alps, are my audience (and I theirs). Mount Grappa is nearest to me, a towering, silent monument to the creator of the world. The mountains’ craggy, snowy peaks stand in stark contrast to the green grass and foliage of the valley at our feet. In the same moment the next day, a curtain of fog would separate us, seemingly indefinitely. Though tendrils of sunlight did not beckon me as they did the day before, I was content in knowing that my relationship with the people, culture, and history of Italia was just behind that shroud, waiting to be found.

The journey to these initial moments of restful reflection came only after a long day of travel. My trip began long before I had even left my own home in Lubbock, Texas. Packing and preparing for this semester was an adventure in itself. To get into Italy legally (or what we like to call ‘the right way’), you must have a passport that does not expire during your stay in the country and a visa declaring your intentions. The process of obtaining a passport takes time, so cut the US government some slack when I tell you that it takes over a month to process your forms the first time. The second time took only a week, because I was just renewing the passport, going from a youth version to an adult one. The visa takes a bit of time and patience as well. For travelers going into a foreign country, the length of the stay is one of the determinants as to whether or not you need a visa. Italy requires foreigners to get a visa if they are staying longer than 90 days. Since I am staying for slightly longer than 90 days, I needed to get a visa! I’m a student, so naturally I filled out documents for the student visa. Luckily, I had help in getting the proper official documents. 

Elizabeth Mcdaniel, study abroad coordinator for Texas Tech, this is your official shout-out: thank you for guiding me through the paperwork necessary to obtain a student visa. Without your patience, I would have been woefully lost. Also, thank you for making the trip down to the nearest Italian consulate, in Houston, to get the required signatures. I could not have made the journey here without your aid!

(update continued 1/20/11)

Getting my backpacks packed up was, in a way, a sort of treasure hunt. Out of the clothing I normally wore around Tech campus this last semester, I only had a few shirts and slacks that I thought would be dressy enough to take to Italy. To give you some background, I was informed by multiple individuals that Europeans, and Italians especially, dress up more formally than Americans when they go out in public. During an orientation at Tech, I was also told that blending in with the local culture of your foreign campus’ country is paramount to making a good first impression. 

So, because of this advice, my requirement by CIMBA (my study abroad program) to have 2 business outfits, and my inner desire to have fancier clothing, I decided to go down to Ross Dress for Less and Savers. Between these two stores, I bought several button-ups shirts, ties, and a sport coat for a fraction of what I would pay in a department store. Did I give a flip if someone else wore it before I did? No way, Hosea! (That is, except for boxers. I will not wear used boxers!). 

*Read this next section to get an idea of how I think a traveler’s pack(s) should be packed. Otherwise, you skip to the next paragraph*

After getting all of my clothing together, I laid it all out on the bed in our guest bedroom. Then I brought in all of the electronics and other non-clothing items I believed should go with me to Italy. I packed my carry-on first, which had my laptop, my travel books (a novel, ‘A Traveler in Italy’, by H. V. Morton, and a pocket-sized language guide called ‘Italian At A Glance’), some notebooks, my electronics (battery charger, transformer), my contact case/eye solution, a small first aid kit with allergy, pain, and sleep pills, and a knit cap. My main backpack, an internal frame backpack normally used for hiking, had all of my clothing. First, in the bottom section, normally used for storing a sleeping bag, I put 2 pairs of shoes in, stuffed to their seams with pairs of socks. Everything else went in fairly simply: heaviest items go in first, followed by progressively lighter items, with air pockets being filled in by lone pairs of socks or undershirts. 

Once everything was in, the internal frame backpack weighed 35 pounds. I would soon find out that some of the girls on the trip checked two pieces of matched luggage (not meant for stairs or long walks over cobblestones), each weighing just under 50 pounds. If you know me, you know that I ended up carrying their luggage for them, along with my own, up and down several flights of stairs, with no questions asked – that’s just what I do sometimes.

After everything was finally packed, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. It was subsequently gasped back into my lungs as the realization of my plans dawned on me. I was going to Italy - ‘This is it’, I told myself. My parents were worried, yet again, that I might be talking to myself, so they made me an omelet to calm me down while I was in the car on the way to the airport. No, they didn’t make the omelet in the car – they made it beforehand at the house, Nick. *rolls eyes and laughs*

The moment finally arrived where I entered the airport, a semester’s worth of belongings strapped to my back and draped over my arms. I checked the internal frame backpack with the airline (Continental), cinched up my carry-on, and hugged my mom and dad goodbye before going through security.

“Where ya headed?” the TSA officer checking my passport asked.

“Venice, Italy” I said.

“Alright then, you have fun there, ya hear?” he said. I nodded and proceeded to remove my laptop from backpack and my shoes from my feet. Afterwards, I realized getting through security took only 10 minutes.

‘I’m definitely still in Lubbock’, I thought to myself.

Getting onto my first flight down to Houston was largely uneventful, save for a few details. We were packed like sardines into this plane (2 seats on the right and 1 seat on the left of the aisle), my pilot’s name was Capt. Kevin Keyes (reminiscent of Halo’s Capt. Keyes. Requiescat in pace), I strained my neck from yawning while looking out the window, and I sang the John Williams Tribute quietly to myself while I was bored. Everything was pretty normal.

Houston’s airport is massive, but is easily navigated due to its tram system between terminals. I had a 3 hour layover here, so after I bought a slice of pizza, I pulled out the latest issue of Game Informer from backpack and started reading it, cover to cover. I finished just before takeoff.

As we took off, I took notice as the guts of raindrops raced their counterparts across the windows in a futile effort to escape their impending exodus from liquidity. A thin layer of ice soon formed on the front of the wings. It was cool.

By the time I began my trans-Atlantic flight, I had already been awake for nearly 8 hours. The flight took 9 hours. Granted, Continental did well by serving dinner and breakfast, but it was still pretty boring nonetheless.  I sat by two Dutch girls in their mid-20s. They read their Dutch books, and I read my novel by Morton. Nothing very exciting happened, but nothing dreadful happened either. I only slept for about 30 minutes throughout that whole flight, mostly because I was working myself up over how I was going to navigate my way through Schiphol, Amsterdam’s largest airport and Europe’s 4^th largest. 

Turned out that navigating Schiphol wasn’t so bad – the airport caters to English-speaking people by having everything written in both English and Dutch. Besides that, there were two things I noticed that were interesting about the people in that airport. First, everyone is in a mad rush to get wherever they need to go, and secondly, there are no obese people anywhere. Skinny jeans, tall leather boots, and pea coats were the most common clothing items I saw people wearing. (So yes, Chris Shute, you would blend in like a chameleon there).

Once I got through customs (which was a fairly straightforward process – the security spoke some English), I went to the information desk, asked where I could find Alitalia, and went there to get my boarding pass. By this point, I had been awake for about 18 hours, but I still felt rather chipper. I found my gate, and lo and behold, there’s a group of 6 American students. I immediately introduced myself, saying how relieved I was to meet up with them. Even more amazing, it turned out they were going to Paderno del Grappa, also! From that point on, I had some people I knew I could help out or be helped out with. We all got onto our next flight, headed to our next destination: Venice.

(updated continued on 1/26/10)

Fun fact: (Female) KLM flight attendants still wear the picturesque, 1960’s flight attendant outfits – bright blue skirts, jackets, and heels!

During this flight, we passed over the Alps. The Rockies are bigger in size and scope, but there’s a certain romantic essence to the Alps that marries the rugged essence of the Rockies. When I see them, I think of all of the barbarian warlords and generals who attempted to cross them in the past. I think of all the failed attempts, the burning desire to try again, and the occasional success by the hardiest travelers. Thankfully, I took the high road on this trip, so I didn’t have to worry about trudging across glaciers, snow, and steep mountain passes.

Venice was covered in fog when we finally arrived  - 'tis unfortunate that I didn’t get an aerial peek into ‘Venezia’, as it is called here, but there will be plenty of time to do sightseeing soon enough!

The rest of the trip was pretty easy, and for those of you who might be going to Paderno del Grappa, here’s how you do it from Venice’s Marco Polo airport: buy a bus ticket (3 Euros) to Mestre train station while in Marco Polo airport. VALIDATE your ticket at a yellow (or brightly colored, usually) validation box before you get onto the bus. Mestre is about 20 minutes away from Venice, by bus. Once you’re at the train station, buy a ticket (about 6 Euros) for Bassano del Grappa (VALIDATE this ticket as well). The ride to Bassano will be about 50 minutes. From Bassano, you can get another bus ticket (3 Euros – validate it) directly to Paderno del Grappa. You’ll be at the campus/town within half an hour!

For those of you who have been diligently keeping up with my blog, I thank you. A lot of things have been going on lately in Paderno! Life is busy – 3 long classes each weekday, traveling on the weekend – you’d think CIMBA would give me some more time to sit and dwell on my own experiences! 

I’ll cut out the boring parts about being in Italy (are there any, really?) and get right to the good stuff.

The on-campus sports bar: located within strolling distance, the sports bar is the go-to place for socialites, winos, and everyone in between who just wants to have a relaxing evening with their friends. I have partaken in the nightly ‘festivities’ on several occasions already. Some nights are busier than others, such as when pitchers of Frivolino (a white wine), as well as other drinks, are discounted (3 pitchers for the price of 2, etc). A pitcher of white wine costs 6 Euros, or just over 8 US dollars, on a normal day.

Food on campus is the more preferable way of taking in calories. Breakfast is a meager ordeal, but that’s how the Italian mind designed breakfast to be. Lunch, as it so happens, is the main meal of the day. Dinner is a close second, but no matter what we have, I know it’s better than typical cafeteria food stateside.

There is a gelato shop in the neighboring village of Crespano del Grappa. I’m sure you’ve had gelato before, but I’m nearly certain you haven’t been served gelato by the intensely mustachioed Italian man who lives in Crespano. There are plenty of flavors to slake everyone’s desires, but the kicker is the price: only 1 Euro per scoop! Fantastico!

Coming up in my next post: CIMBA’s leadership training programs, including LIFE (a Kepner-Tregoe ordeal), LEAP, the Da Vinci challenges, and more!