Those summer nights

Hello old friends,

Let me apologise, I've been absolutely rubbish this month. Especially considering that last month I was basically blog obsessed. I doubt anyway cares that much, but if by any chance I have left you high and dry, I am sorry.

June has brought some good things. The weather has shifted to a true Mediterranean climate. Very hot and sunny. I wake up every morning eager to get up, for the sole reason that my bed has been baking in the sunlight since sunrise. During the day, as keen for a tan as any Essex girl may be, I fear burning on my way to get a coffee. It is glorious!

A view from my spot on the sand.

One way we've been making the most of this beautiful sunshine is by making the occasional day trip to Castel Gandolfo. The nearest beach to Rome (Ostia) is famously ugly... or at least that's what the real Romans tell us. Although I suppose they've never been to Southend pier and are simply used to the beauty of the Amalfi coast. Either way, I plan to go there eventually, but the lake is about an hour's train ride away from the city and is beautiful. We went mid-week, before the school's finished and so only had to share the shore with about six other people. Perfection. Bliss. You take my point.

We loved our afternoon. We sat of the sand, read books and sporadically went to swim in that gorgeously blue water. We wandered away for coffees and ice creams and came home tired by the sun and our lazy day, during which I read at least half of ‘The Battersea Park Road toEnlightenment’.

It is said that in summertime the days grow longer and the nights shorter. However, this has not been my experience. As summer has begun the Italian population seems to have woken up from a semi-hibernation and is completely rejuvenated. For the past 3 weeks I haven't returned from a Saturday night out earlier than 5am. Gosh.

Furthermore, most of our favourite events have moved from little clubs into large open air spaces. Fun! Most of them also have booths selling very cheap wine. Double win!

Now I remember why I wanted to move to Italy. Sunshine and wine.

I would never claim to be a football fanatic. Mostly because at my first attempt my brother and all male friends would jump in with controversial comments about how I've never cared in the slightest. That may be true. I'm not overly bothered. However, this month we've all been getting very much involved with the Euros and... well, drunk beer. In the group stages we've been showing our support for both England and Italia, but if things go well over these two evenings we're going have to make a very tough decision Blood and patriotism vs. we're in Italy and would have to take some stick. Only time will tell...

Despite all this revelry in the sun this month has also had it's challenges. My next work deadline is approaching and, as you may remember from here, all the work I have to submit to Warwick this year must be written in Italian. I've now completed my second module report and am researching an planning my final extended essay. There had to be some price for this beautiful year abroad! However, despite the freedom of the essay I'm hating it, partly because it's hard to concentrate on anything in this heat. And the fact that I'd rather be outside playing!

Well, I'm now closing in on the end of my Italian adventure, but I'll be sure to keep you posted on the rest of my fun. Also rather excitingly, after four years of friendship my friend Jess and I now live in the same city- even if it is only for a few.

I have a match to pay better attention to now. This is why we don't usually watch them at home...

Putting it to the test.

As you know I've been in Rome for five months. Living and breathing Italia. Speaking Italian both academically and socially; both soberly and drunkenly. However, this past week marked the real challenge of my linguistic abilities as I attempted to compose my first Module Report to send home to Warwick. A minimum of 1,500 words to be written in coherent and grammatically correct Italian discussing all that I've studied and sharing my observations of all things roman.

Pause for major freak out and appropriate amount of procrastination.

Now as I’ve mentioned before I am a bit of a geek. I sometimes like to get absorbed in a project and involuntarily secrete the facts and anecdotes I’ve retained over the subsequent weeks, months and sometimes years. I like playing with language to clarify my point and imply more. I also really like plans and lists, colour coding and pretty notebooks.

However, I dislike the notion of things that I ‘must’ do and so very often, unless I get swept away by a very early wave of enthusiasm and obscurity I will leave all things all things that ‘have to’ be done until about three minutes prior to the moment in which they ‘have to’ be accounted for. Don’t judge me, because I know I’m not alone. I have the entirety of the BA Student World behind me.

It’s not procrastination. No, procrastination is all the fun little mini tasks, facebook discoveries and coffee trips one makes mid-writing session. What ails me, and impedes my academic efficiency is ‘the Dread’ That disgruntled, under-appreciated little brother of ‘The Fear’ (often known to come calling and chain students to desks prior to exam season). The Dread is the premonition of how dull the essay, or report, writing process will be. It’s not playing with words, it’s not even the fun research and learning part that leads to colourful spider diagrams and obscure opinions sprawled over various scraps of paper (often covered in biscuit crumbs). No, it’s the hours of drudgery that turn the pretty diagrams and fun debates you’ve been having with your peers (because that’s why we’re on Facebook in the library) into lines of black blobs on white paper. “How many blobs” I hear you cry? Why, however many your tutor has demanded. Eurgh.

I planned my report three weeks ago. Decided exactly how many sections to include and how long each one needed to be. I made lists, thorough lists in a brilliant notebook (hardback, Union Jack cover, red ribbon bookmark- you see the notebook really is more exciting) and with a zest which I can only attribute to my long absence from academia I even wrote the first paragraph more than a week before my deadline. But then it all came flooding back and true to form after two days of extended breaks and excuses (and probably only about two hours of actual writing, because let’s face it, 1,500 words isn’t very much) I was exhausted and my spirit was broken as a stared at my laptop screen and smiled to see my very dry, methodical report about my first semester in Rome.

Obviously I’m exaggerating. I didn’t want to write a report. I didn’t see the point and I know that whoever reads it will probably find their experience equally as dull as my own (writing that is, not Rome). However, the real challenge was that this was the first time, since I began studying Italian aged 11, that I’ve ever had to write an extended piece and it did make me realise how many short cuts we use with languages.

Conversationally, for example, you don’t need to understand every word that comes out of the other person’s mouth. Generally if you understand 7 out of 10 you can take their meaning well enough. When responding it’s ok if you don’t know or forget a word because you can just go round the houses a bit and explain what you mean and check that the other person has understood you. Online and texting we use a million short cuts and no full sentences. Oh, and of course, in an essay you can’t lace a sentence with profanities... although sticking “cazzo” in every sentence would certainly have helped me reach the word count more speedily!

I’m half way through and actually at the end of my report I was pretty pleased. I wrote the thing fairy easily (when I paid attention to the task) and didn’t have to look too many words up. However, my grammar needs some work. By some I mean a lot.

New goal: I’m doing well, now it’s time to do better.