Today officially marks my last day at this internship. I have avoided remarking on my work and the FAO up until now mostly because it has been rather lacklustre. I sit in an office, work on a computer, occasionally attend meetings. My supervisor and boss are both wonderful professionally and personally, but they both left a few weeks ago for vacation. Most employees here have actually departed for August holidays which has left the labyrinthine halls of this office building eerily quite and empty.
I have been moderately pleased with the internship, mostly because it has allowed me to be in Rome for the summer and has put little pressure on me as far as workload. I'm not sure how much professional development it has helped me with, however.
I would be more pleased with the end of this whole thing had I not received an absolutely confidence-shattering email from someone outside of FAO criticizing the report I have been working on all summer and basically questioning my knowledge of agricultural systems and policy. Since I have been debating whether this is an area I am qualified to work in or even interested in pursuing, the email hit a sensitive spot and has cast a pall over what otherwise would have been my neutral-to-positive feelings over this internship.
I don't mean to say that I am leaving with ill-will or bad feelings. It's just that I have been putting off thinking about my educational and career choices for much of the summer and now I am reminded that this hasn't been a perfect fit for me. I am trying not to let my wounded pride over this email color my desire to finish this degree, but it does touch on some of my misgivings and insecurities about my lack of passion about this subject matter and my relative inexpertise.
But I will have time to consider all of that when I am back in the States. Until then, I have lunch plans to bid farewell to friends at FAO, dinner/drinking plans with friends after work and then a weekend in Pompeii followed by a week in Croatia. Wish me well on my travels and I'll see you back in the U.S. of A.
Friday, August 10, 2007
Monday, July 30, 2007
Adult life Italian style
Okay. Sometimes I just need a reality check with the whole "Am I a grown-up or not" thing. A conversation with an Italian friend this weekend provided just that. I should probably clarify that this guy is married, does his share of the housework, is great with taking care of his young daughter, and in general is a non-machismo type of regular dude. Our conversation went something like this:
HIM: My brother [who is in his early 40s] still lives at home with my mom. I think he is reluctant to get move out because my mom does all his cooking, cleaning, laundry.
ME: Your mother doesn't mind having to take care of him?
HIM: That's the way things are here. In Italy, everyone just lives with their parents until they get married at whatever age that might be and until then our moms take care of everything. I had never washed a dish, cleaned my own clothes or made my own bed until I got married. I really liked ironing for the first few months of our marriage because I had never done it before. The novelty was kind of fun.
ME: Right. And your wife had to teach you how to do all of that stuff?
HIM: Oh, yeah. Still to this day, my mom does all of the cooking and cleaning when I visit her at home. She makes my bed every morning, cleans my room, puts socks on my feet when I'm sleeping so I won't get cold. It's great to have dinner made for you every night and then just get up when it's over and not worry about cleaning up.
ME: And this doesn't bother you?
HIM: No. I like knowing that my mom loves me so unconditionally.
ME: This doesn't undermine your self-image as an independent, self-sufficient adult who is capable of functioning in society without the help of his mother?
HIM: What now?
ME: Never mind.
HIM: My brother [who is in his early 40s] still lives at home with my mom. I think he is reluctant to get move out because my mom does all his cooking, cleaning, laundry.
ME: Your mother doesn't mind having to take care of him?
HIM: That's the way things are here. In Italy, everyone just lives with their parents until they get married at whatever age that might be and until then our moms take care of everything. I had never washed a dish, cleaned my own clothes or made my own bed until I got married. I really liked ironing for the first few months of our marriage because I had never done it before. The novelty was kind of fun.
ME: Right. And your wife had to teach you how to do all of that stuff?
HIM: Oh, yeah. Still to this day, my mom does all of the cooking and cleaning when I visit her at home. She makes my bed every morning, cleans my room, puts socks on my feet when I'm sleeping so I won't get cold. It's great to have dinner made for you every night and then just get up when it's over and not worry about cleaning up.
ME: And this doesn't bother you?
HIM: No. I like knowing that my mom loves me so unconditionally.
ME: This doesn't undermine your self-image as an independent, self-sufficient adult who is capable of functioning in society without the help of his mother?
HIM: What now?
ME: Never mind.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Mid-Summer Crisis
I'm having a bit of an adult-life crisis right now. It all started last week when the woman with whom I am staying commented that I get along so well with her daughter that I could be her older sister! This kid is one and a half. I thought to myself "Hell, I could easily be this kid's mother." Which made me think that I am probably about the same age as the woman and her husband which then led me to start pondering the meaning of being an adult and the social indicators that make people treat you like an adult.
I know that part of my existential crisis stems from the fact that I am resolutely in my late twenties and I am back in school and doing an unpaid internship, which is frankly beneath me given my job experience and skills. As a student (and an intern), I tend to get lumped in with the younger demographic, but even in my professional life I still got grouped with all of the other twenty-somethings who were either single or partnered-but-unmarried. So many people in our generation are marrying later or not at all and may not be choosing to have families but we lack any social mile markers for becoming an older and wiser adult other than marriage and kids.
I am feeling this acutely because I am spending so much time with people in the early twenties and like I said people treat us as being in the same life-stage. But we're not. I want and need different things, especially out of a job, than I did when I was 23. Maybe I'm wrong, but I feel if I was married or had kids, people would treat me more like the adult that I am (even though I am very aware that having a spouse and/or children does not in any way make you more of a grown-up). Since I am not interested in getting married or birthing any babies right now, are there any other social short cuts to separating myself from my younger colleagues, co-workers, fellow students?
Perhaps I am being paranoid about this whole thing. What do you think about all of this? How are you treated at work/at school/by your family? Does turning thirty help?
I know that part of my existential crisis stems from the fact that I am resolutely in my late twenties and I am back in school and doing an unpaid internship, which is frankly beneath me given my job experience and skills. As a student (and an intern), I tend to get lumped in with the younger demographic, but even in my professional life I still got grouped with all of the other twenty-somethings who were either single or partnered-but-unmarried. So many people in our generation are marrying later or not at all and may not be choosing to have families but we lack any social mile markers for becoming an older and wiser adult other than marriage and kids.
I am feeling this acutely because I am spending so much time with people in the early twenties and like I said people treat us as being in the same life-stage. But we're not. I want and need different things, especially out of a job, than I did when I was 23. Maybe I'm wrong, but I feel if I was married or had kids, people would treat me more like the adult that I am (even though I am very aware that having a spouse and/or children does not in any way make you more of a grown-up). Since I am not interested in getting married or birthing any babies right now, are there any other social short cuts to separating myself from my younger colleagues, co-workers, fellow students?
Perhaps I am being paranoid about this whole thing. What do you think about all of this? How are you treated at work/at school/by your family? Does turning thirty help?
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Ex Libris
It has been hot in Rome. The temperature has been hovering between uncomfortably sweaty even when not moving and mind melting (actual temperature is measured in Celsius which I have not quite mastered yet). This has made me and the rest of inhabitants of Rome very irritable.
After a particularly trying day of standing in long lines in the sun to get into the Vatican and being crushed by tourists in the Sistine Chappell, I snapped at my very sweet but ever-present Chinese roommate. I was attempting to get some peace and quiet by suggesting that he do some summer reading and he responded with "I don't read." Now, this guy has a master's degree from an English university so I know he is capable of reading (in multiple languages) so that isn't the problem. He just doesn't see the value.
Since he seems to have a lot of time on his hands, has a woeful ignorance of anything Italian or Roman despite the fact that he lives here, and is constantly asking me to teach him English swear words, I convinced him that he could solve all of these problems by simply reading. I browbeat him into taking a Complete History of Rome, a gory crime novel, and Chuck Palahniuk's "Fight Club" into his room with him.
I feel a bit bad that I was clearly impatient, appalled, and perhaps a bit condescending about his lack of reading. But really. Reading is one of life's greatest pleasures and in the heat of a Roman summer there is no better distraction.
After a particularly trying day of standing in long lines in the sun to get into the Vatican and being crushed by tourists in the Sistine Chappell, I snapped at my very sweet but ever-present Chinese roommate. I was attempting to get some peace and quiet by suggesting that he do some summer reading and he responded with "I don't read." Now, this guy has a master's degree from an English university so I know he is capable of reading (in multiple languages) so that isn't the problem. He just doesn't see the value.
Since he seems to have a lot of time on his hands, has a woeful ignorance of anything Italian or Roman despite the fact that he lives here, and is constantly asking me to teach him English swear words, I convinced him that he could solve all of these problems by simply reading. I browbeat him into taking a Complete History of Rome, a gory crime novel, and Chuck Palahniuk's "Fight Club" into his room with him.
I feel a bit bad that I was clearly impatient, appalled, and perhaps a bit condescending about his lack of reading. But really. Reading is one of life's greatest pleasures and in the heat of a Roman summer there is no better distraction.
The visuals
Here are a couple of photos of me. First one is my friend Cara and I at the opera. Below is me bike riding on the Appian Way. Note that I am actually on a dirt path besdie the Appian Way, because the Romans paved the thing with huge boulders which are not so fun to ride your bike over.
Monday, July 16, 2007
I *heart* Roma
Okay, Rome, I think I have a crush on you. It's hard not to fall for such a historic and lively city and I know everything looks better in the summer. Still I thought I could resist. I still have a thing for Chicago and I was just starting to see Boston in a different light.
Rome has a certain inherent romance that is impossible to ignore in the summer. It's not that I get to eating gelato in an old square. It's that I am eating gelato in a square where a theologian was burned at the stake for speaking out against the Christian faith. I don't just read a book in the park, I read a book underneath fragrant orange trees in the shade of an 8th century church in a park overlooking the city. A leisurely bike ride outside the city is actually a bike ride along the Appian Way past the catacombs and farmers' fields of ancient Rome.
Rome is also the most welcoming city I have ever visited. It is a small but important thing that I get asked (in Italian) for directions almost every day. I am not singled out or shunned because I look northamerican. People seem to think I belong in this city. And they don't mind so much that my Italian is broken and that I subsitute Spanish and English for anything I don't know in Italian.
It also doesn't hurt that I am tan and relaxed for the first time in ages and that I have effectively put the stress of my schoolling and career on pause for a few months. This is the much needed vacation after an unfullfilling and emotionally draining year.
Do I miss some things from the States? Of course. Do I wish certain people could share this wondeful summer with me? Definately. And maybe this summer wouldn't be so great if I weren't returning in the middle of August.
But, right now I am content to love this city.
Rome has a certain inherent romance that is impossible to ignore in the summer. It's not that I get to eating gelato in an old square. It's that I am eating gelato in a square where a theologian was burned at the stake for speaking out against the Christian faith. I don't just read a book in the park, I read a book underneath fragrant orange trees in the shade of an 8th century church in a park overlooking the city. A leisurely bike ride outside the city is actually a bike ride along the Appian Way past the catacombs and farmers' fields of ancient Rome.
Rome is also the most welcoming city I have ever visited. It is a small but important thing that I get asked (in Italian) for directions almost every day. I am not singled out or shunned because I look northamerican. People seem to think I belong in this city. And they don't mind so much that my Italian is broken and that I subsitute Spanish and English for anything I don't know in Italian.
It also doesn't hurt that I am tan and relaxed for the first time in ages and that I have effectively put the stress of my schoolling and career on pause for a few months. This is the much needed vacation after an unfullfilling and emotionally draining year.
Do I miss some things from the States? Of course. Do I wish certain people could share this wondeful summer with me? Definately. And maybe this summer wouldn't be so great if I weren't returning in the middle of August.
But, right now I am content to love this city.
Monday, July 2, 2007
Milan
I travelled to Milan this weekend to visit with a friend from grad school who happened to be passing through. These are my impressions: Milan has a lot of banks, an obscene number of high fashion clothing stores, too much kissing in public, and sidewalks too small for outdoor seating.
The only other tourist we saw were in frightenly large groups (30-40+) and I've decided that I should coin a term for tourists who travel in packs. Similar to a pride of lions and a murder of crows, an annoyance of tourists are groups of foreigners numbering more than 6 who travel, often on a chartered bus, to other countries armed with cameras, fanny packs, and sun visors who can be distinguished by their inability to speak the native language, their excessive pointing at monmuments, and their strange habit of following an umbrella or flag wielding leader.
Best moment of the trip: the guy in front of me waiting to get into the big cathedral was turned away because he was wearing (ugly) shorts. In Milan, even God has good fashion sense.
The only other tourist we saw were in frightenly large groups (30-40+) and I've decided that I should coin a term for tourists who travel in packs. Similar to a pride of lions and a murder of crows, an annoyance of tourists are groups of foreigners numbering more than 6 who travel, often on a chartered bus, to other countries armed with cameras, fanny packs, and sun visors who can be distinguished by their inability to speak the native language, their excessive pointing at monmuments, and their strange habit of following an umbrella or flag wielding leader.
Best moment of the trip: the guy in front of me waiting to get into the big cathedral was turned away because he was wearing (ugly) shorts. In Milan, even God has good fashion sense.
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