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.

Taking The Plunge.

Yesterday I was talking to a good friend from home. And when I was 'talking' I evidently mean tapping words to electronically, as I live in Rome whilst she's still in England. I was thrilled when she popped up on screen because (a) I love my friends and like to keep up to date with all the news and (b) because she opened the dialogue with a nice, big and bold question:

Do you want to work abroad?

Quite simply, yes. Yes, I flipping well do! She was pleased with my response and seemed surprised that I'd already looked into a couple of ideas similar to her's, such as spending a summer working as a holiday rep somewhere in Europe, which is massively popular and you have to apply for nice and early (apparently). I've actually been considering this, and much longer contracts as well as destinations much farther afield, since I first arrived in Rome. That is to say I've been seriously wondering about what opportunities are available to a British  graduate in this vast world and how difficult they may or may not be to stumble upon.  I'll be honest, I've pondered it a lot, I haven't gotten round to much actual research yet and most of the people I know who've lived all over the world, when asked say that things just happened. Opportunity knocked.

What really strikes me as interesting though is how many people want to learn a new language, live in a different country (whether temporarily or permanently) and basically get a bigger taste of life. Before moving to Rome in September I'd talk about my degree  in the way that you naturally do when making polite small talk, 'I'm a student... I'm a Warwick... studying English and Italian Literature'. However, I always noticed how interested many people were when I spoke about the language component and the compulsory Year Abroad. It seemed as though almost everyone had wanted to do something similar at one time or another. When I asked what had prevented them most people answered quite honestly: fear of the gamble and of challenges unforeseen and the question of timing, that is to say 'the timing was never right'.

Timing is something I've considered a lot recently. When is the best time to take a risk, to plan a long and expensive trip, to get married, to make an investment, to have a baby or flip your whole world upside down?  My findings are as follows.... never. There's a never a good time. There's always a reason to say no, or chicken out. This is my new mantra, my motivation to say 'yes' to more. The time will never be 'right', but it may well be pretty good and as for the fear, I've already moved abroad. Yes, in a controlled setting, with lots of support and for a fairly set amount of time... but I've done it. I took the plunge, booked my tickets, read foreign papers and found a flat. I've explored this beautiful city of mine, met some fantastic people from all over (need to blog about some of them soon) and yes, I got robbed. But life's made up of both the good and the bad. My point is, I've done it once and it's made me braver. I think I could do it again. I could probably handle sorting it out for myself. I'd like to see what and where else the world has to offer

...once I finish my degree, of course.