A Rose by Any Other Name . . .

The weirdest thing about summer school in Italy? I spent half of my time speaking French.

The course I participated in was run in conjunction with three other universities besides my own. The University of Paris, Leipzig University, and the University of Ljubljana sent their own publishing students, to talk about digital publishing in each of our respective countries. Though the common language was meant to be English, French lecturers began by admitting they were best prepared to speak in their native language and employ a translator. My notes are scribbled in a hodgepodge of languages, which was all the more confusing when it was time to go to town and I continued to merci the locals.

They, of course, said, scuzi?


Things became clearer by the end of the week, as altogether we agreed about the loveliness of the villa and drank more cappucino than could possibly be good for us. They literally served us three meals within five hours, each more opulent than the rest. That was before we went into town and saw the gelato.

Second breakfast

Fourth dessert

I made great friends with the other students, and the night before leaving for Casablanca found myself in a local bar enjoying another Italian specialty . . . A certain kind of drink which involved oranges, sugar, coffee grounds, bananas dipped in poppyseeds. How did you drink it? Following the commands of the mustachioed Italian bartender.

Chin chin!