Last week at UCC was the best week in the academic calendar– RAG week. RAG week, which stands for Raise & Give, is 4 days that are crammed with a number of events that all raise money for different charities. Events normally start around 10am and run until 4pm that any and all students can participate in. The on campus bars also open at 12:30 everyday and are packed with students from open to close. Walking into New Bar on campus, is just like walking into a night club– dimmed lights, blasting music, swimming with people, and flowing drinks– all at 1pm. This makes the general tone of the entire campus like a party. Some students participate in as many activities on campus as possible and some just use RAG week as an excuse to drink 24/7. But no matter which way you spend RAG week, it is for a good cause, so drinking that pint at 2 isn’t as bad when you throw a Euro into a bucket for charity while you drink it.

It is also important to note that Cork City is largely a college town, this means that it’s not just the campus that goes crazy when RAG week comes around– the whole city does. People who don’t attend college at UCC will come for RAG week, practically all of the pubs and clubs have some kind of drink deals during RAG week. We went into the city on Monday night at 10:30 and the line to a popular club was already around the block and the club didn’t open for another half an hour. The whole city seems to go crazy for RAG week, the week before RAG week we were in a cab and the cab driver spent half of the time talking about how people from the country come into Cork for RAG week. Each apartment in the complex that I live in received a letter from our landlord reminding us of some of the apartments rules and threatening serious consequences to tenants who break these rules, such as throwing eggs out of the window or at other buildings, tampering with security cameras and fire extinguishers, and so on. There would also be a security guard on the premise during RAG week instead of our usual night wardens. This letter made me wonder what has possibly happened in past RAG weeks to prompt this type of letter.

So how did I survive RAG week? Did I even survive RAG week? Yes and yes. I actually only had one class all week of RAG week and that was my music class on Monday. My two government classes were cancelled because it was reading week. My folklore class had a story-teller guest speaker for one class and the other was just cancelled. This left me with a week for free time to enjoy this crazy cultural phenomena that is RAG. On Monday I shot clay pigeons with two other friends. I was horrible. I did not hit a single pigeon thus embarrassing my gun-loving American stereotype. On Tuesday, we watched some of the ‘iron stomach’ competition which consisted of the contestants taking off one of their socks, putting it over a carton of milk, and drinking the entire carton. Wednesday, my roommate and I woke up at 12:15 and some how made it to the color run at 12:30. Thursday, we went to the on campus bar again to watch some student karaoke. And Friday, I did not leave my bed. RAG consisted of a lot of dancing, borrowing roommates clothes, laughing, and a relaxing feel-good atmosphere that never really seems to be missing in Ireland. It was a week that I will never forget, and my liver will never forgive me for.

Sadly, the end of RAG week brought me back to the harsh reality that I am in Ireland to go to school. As March approaches, I have major, assignments for all of my courses due. With papers and projects due every week, it is time to buckle down and get my study on. There are many silver-linings to a month of hard-work. The major one being that after April 2nd, I will have only one more paper due (a paper in my music class due on the 24th) and then I will be completely finished with class assignments. No finals for me, which means I will have practically 2 months to fully enjoy my time in Ireland and abroad. With many trips planned on the horizon, all it takes is a positive attitude, and lots of cups of tea, to get me through this month of work and to the end of the tunnel.

I should be quick to note that this month of work will definitely not be only work. This weekend I head up to Dublin with some friends and leave with one of my roommates from Loyola. My roommate, Alyssa, is visiting me over her spring break and I cannot be more excited to show her how I have been living here as she has been experiencing one of Chicago’s coldest February’s ever. Once she leaves, I have a weekend trip to Kerry planned as well as a weekend in Glasgow. The end of March also means a visit from a Rome-center friend, Allison, whose plans we are still trying to iron out. With so much work and play in my future, it is crazy to think how I will ever adjust back to life at home. It is safe to say it will be a more difficult transition home then it was to get here.

Thats all for now! More later!

Wherever life takes you, just be there in the moment and take it all in. Realize the best dreams happen when you’re awake, even when you’re not prepared for them. Just go and know you’ll end up where you belong, trust in God and do more than simply exist. This is the life I’ve come to live. I’ve traded in the fast paced lifestyle for that of taking time to see the world and have been given one thing, a taste of the fullness of life, my greatest gift.

There’s no time to be bored in a world like this. There’s people, places, culture around every corner waiting for me to absorb it in. I get caught up in the kids popping bubbles at Piazza Trasevere, get chants stuck in my head from the Roma Soccer Stadium, and find a piece of myself a little more walking along the streets of another unknown city. I think to myself what a wonderful world it is and how lucky I am to truly experience it.

I learn constantly, about myself, my surroundings, the world, everyday. Through class assignments, such as my Italian Movie Project, I am forced to immerse myself in a culture completely. To attempt the language, hand movements, and warmth of the people around me. My homework is more than piece of papers, it goes beyond what’s right in front of me, making me leave my comfort zone and try something entirely new just to see where it takes me. It’s talking to people I’ve never met, speaking a language I’m starting to grasp, and inviting them to join me on my adventure even if only for a moment. These are my grades, they transform into my story.

The lessons of my classroom have become lessons of my life taught by people all around me with more than just the title of Professor. Although my teachers have gone above and beyond their job, I’ve come to get to know and connect to the John Felice Rome Center community. I have gained relationships with the chefs of Mensa (our cafeteria) knowing life behind their uniforms, have shared conversations and meals with the Director of our program, someone I admire and see as a great friend, and have grown to have a large appreciation for the people who operate these facilities. My Student Life Assistants do exactly as their title explain, assisting me in all manners of my life, becoming friends and mentors along the way. As for my peers, they allow me to be placed in an environment filled with authenticity, an emphasis on education, and full enjoyment of life that constantly keeps me going. The community here inspires me daily to not only see the world around me, but encourages me to change it.

With this newly developed mentality and positive environment, I have gone beyond my comfort zone, leading me to events, people, and places I never would of expected, including times where I traded in the field for the stands taking the skills I’ve learned in Calcio to root for the actual team! With a group of around 40 study abroad students in my program, I attended a typical Roma soccer game filled with more security than fans and cheered on the city I’ve come to call my own. I experienced first handedly the importance sports have on Italian culture and how teams tie with political and social views. Calcio, Italian soccer, is more than a sport played within a 90 minute time period. It’s a part of who the Italian people are. They see it as something that defines them. This just like many other things shows the passion of the Italian people and pride in all things that define them. It’s a rarity I’ve never seen among any other group of individuals, but hope to gain from living here.

 Getting to see Roma in this different light allowed me to appreciate the complexity of cities, leading me to the perfect destination next on my list, Barcelona. Flavor, passion, and rooted culture were discovered within every restaurant, street corner, and cathedral. The city represented more than the country of Espana, giving it’s own individuality as the Catalan people.

While walking the streets, one gets lost in the beautiful work of Gaudi, a man who envisioned more for Barcelona and took his talent to transform the city into what it is today. The streets, parks, monuments would be nothing without him. He made Barcelona and he was only one person. His impact on an entire city makes me think someday I can use my individual talents to do the same. This encouragement and inspiration was not something I only found in myself, but saw in that of others as they walked the streets of La Rambla and the coastline with me.

There was so much to take in during such a short period of time, but that never intimidated me. On top of walking more than a marathon around the entire city limits, I embraced the mentality that life is all about walking up an hour early to live an hour more, using the map in my hand to guide me and taking well deserved breaks enjoying the natural juices of the St. Joseph Market to keep me going.

Through experiencing this city, I recognized how the Spanish people make everything transform into something beautiful, whether it be the parks, monuments, cathedrals or benches on your way to the beach. They take art and give it a deeper meaning using that as a source to express their values and morals as a community. They added rooted heritage to their Catedral, celebrated their power in the world by creating the Font Magica at Monjuic and Arc de Triomf at the entrance of Ciutadella Park, embraced a new time of technology at Torre Agbar and Els Encants Flea Market, as well as, established a place for community at Park Guell and home of Gaudi. Everything was their own, traditional and authentic.

The Catalan people of Barcelona live in a way that everything will always fall into place, taking their history of a torn city to lay as the foundation of their current success. They take pride in their people, like Picasso, Gaudi, and Colombus who changed the course of history. The people of Barcelona weren’t just people their, they danced in the streets on Sunday morning before heading to mass at the Cathedral, sold authentic and natural goods in the markets, lived in apartment buildings found between the amazing Casa Mila and Casa Batllo, and passed the masterpiece of Sagrada Familia daily. They celebrated life everyday through their never ending night life and lived in a way where working as a team and taking your time was the only way to success. They showed things without every having to state them. That was Barcelona and that’s why I loved it.

I was fortunate enough to not only see the monuments, but the lives of the people, sharing my weekend with mutual friends who lived in the country and enjoying John Felice Rome Center students outside of the norm. It was an adventure I’d take again any day and have already set on going back in 2030 when a century of work is complete. The city changed my perspective, faith, and appetite, things I will forever take with me.

When returning from to my home in Roma, I realized the date. The setting around me and the people I share my experience with have made my enjoyment overcome the need of keeping track of time. It’s a blessing, but also a curse. I am now almost half way through this adventurous chapter of my life and can only hope that the days remaining come easy, the moments pass slowly and each road leads me to where I want to go. If I had one wish it would be that a trip like this could last forever, but I’ve come to realize that’s sadly not my truth, so I take in each breathe fully and pray that I’ll really live each moment because it’s the least I can do. I’m off like always to explore a new city and fall in love with my own all over again. I don’t know my next stop or lesson, but can promise you one thing, I’ll continue to mistaken my reality for a dream, if you lived my life, you’d be doing the same.

Adios for now,

Gabriella Lunich

So this is a blog post all about how my life’s been twist-turned upside down.

I’ve officially been in Rome for an entire month! It feels like I’ve only been here for days, but at the same time it feels like I’ve been here for months. In many ways, the first month feels like a vacation. Plenty of other things in life only last a few weeks: summer camps, extended vacations, middle school relationships. But now that I’ve surpassed that one-month milestone, I guess you could say it now feels “real.” I’m here for the long haul…that feels unsettlingly short.

I miss my family, my friends, my boyfriend, my dogs, Loyola, and chicken salads with ranch dressing. I also miss Rome already. My carb intake is at its prime, I had my first exams last week, and I have to figure out my housing situation for next year from all the way across the Atlantic Ocean. I also have to finalize my major, about which I’m considering a last-minute change, by the time I come home from Rome. A lot of us here are trying to find summer internships or jobs, too, but have no idea where we’ll even be living over the summer. Steven, one of the SLAs, ended up taking a year off after his semester abroad to stay in Rome and work as an au pair. It’s surreal and terrifying – that could be any one of us.

I mentioned it somewhat jokingly with a Fresh Prince reference at the beginning of this post, but it’s actually true. Rome is turning my life upside down by showing me that there are infinite possibilities for what I’m going to do with it. It’s a wonderful and overwhelming thing. The possibilities are exciting and exhausting. I want to make the right choice, to take risks – but not too many – and to ultimately be successful. It’s a lot of pressure to shoulder when all I want to do is go lay in the courtyard, eat a blood orange, and soak up Rome’s winter sun.

That’s the truth you won’t hear too often from anyone who studies abroad. Yes, I get to do incredible things. But it’s studying abroad, not vacation abroad (though some people do indeed act like it’s a vacation). I’m still going through all the typical college struggles, but I usually opt instead to write about my crazy stories!

Speaking of crazy stories.

I went to beautiful Venice the weekend before last! Carnivale, a celebration leading up to Lent, was at its height. During Carnivale, people dress up in elegant costumes, don masks, and parade around the island. It can be best described as a classier, more elaborate version of Halloween. The attention to detail in some of the costumes is nothing short of astonishing – same with the immense crowds. I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves.

The first thing we did was take a gondola ride. IT WAS A DREAM COME TRUE. Our comedic gondolier, dressed in stripes and a beret, spouted out fun facts about the places we were passing and even hummed a little bit. He pointed out the fish market where Angelina Jolie and Johnny Depp filmed scenes for The Tourist, as well as the palace where Marco Polo was supposedly born. We passed the Rialto Bridge, which was anticlimactically smaller than I expected.

We later explored Piazza San Marco and walked through St. Mark’s Basilica before checking into our hostel, A Venice Fish. I must say that the greatest stories from this weekend stem from our hostel experience. The guy running the hostel was a young dude with shoulder-length curly hair named Nick, born in Italy but raised in Wisconsin, with a fascinating life story. Nick showed us to our room through sliding doors, right off the main room. The seven of us girls took seven beds; the eighth was occupied by a friendly guy named Mike from Los Angeles.

We explored the city more during the day, going in and out of little shops between the numerous canals. We spent a lot of time searching for inexpensive Carnivale masks that would suit our distinct personalities and styles. On one street, I spontaneously decided to dance along to some accordion music. A tall guy in a dark mask took my hand and started swing dancing with me, right there in the middle of everything!

In the evening, we attended the hostel’s dinner, which included all-you-can-eat pasta and wine. Afterward, we joined a large group that was going to a local club. Nick claimed the place was “authentic Venice” but it was really the worst kind of crowded and the worst kind of hipster. Still, the night wasn’t a waste. I met Jean from Brazil, who spoke only Portuguese and French. Since his English was poor, we conversed in French the whole night! I’m ecstatic that my five-plus years of French class have actually paid off.

Saturday, we set out to find boat passes that would get us to the glass blowing and lace making islands of Venice. With the massive crowds, and stopping in stores along the way, it took us several hours to even make it to Piazza San Marco. There, we had further difficulties buying our boat passes. We eventually made it onto a boat headed for Murano (the glass-making island), where we lifted our spirits with gelato and coffee.

After indulging, we perused the dozens of tiny shops, each filled with distinct styles and forms of glass. I bought a dazzling bracelet with matching earrings! The island was extremely calm and serene in comparison to the main island of Venice – it was exactly what the seven of us needed.  Fun fact: glass blowing was restricted to the island of Murano in ancient times to prevent glass blowing-related fires from happening on the mainland. Thanks, Rick Steves!

Then we went to Burano and meandered through a few lace shops. The patterns were intricate and handmade with a delicacy you won’t find in the U.S., where things are sloppily mass-produced. Unfortunately everything started closing around 6:30 p.m. and the island got eerily quiet and creepy. We got on the first boat back to St. Mark’s. Our next objective was finding food.

Maureen led us to a Rick Steves-recommended restaurant next to the Rialto Bridge, where we enjoyed spaghetti, lasagna, and red wine. The streets were packed with the craziest array of costumes: everything from children dressed as Spiderman to a heard of bananas. We drank some succulent hot sangria in a little alley-cove next to a main street, while watching people walk by and jamming to the American music blaring from the Sangria stand. After a group of men dressed in priest costumes gave up on either trying to convert us or flirt with us (I’m still not sure which), we went back to the hostel. Insanity ensued.

Nick was taking a group of people to go out again; three of my friends and I decided to join. I mistakenly assumed we’d be going to Piazza San Marco to join the Carnivale activities. We walked for a long time, following the group past all the places we knew, turning right when we came to the edge of the island and traipsing down a long boardwalk that was suspended from the side of the buildings. At the end was a small bridge guarded by a stern looking and troll-like security guard who was doing bag checks. We riddled past him, wound through a building dotted with guards and police, and exited onto a pier, which held a colossal elephant sculpture and an enormously regal swan. The scene somehow proved that this was a big deal. There was a massive crowd gathered, but rather than tourists, it consisted of local Venetians and young students of all nationalities. It was evident we’d been given access to the real underground Carnivale party. Three lines later, we made it into the warehouse-turned-club just before midnight.

There were two rooms, each with a DJ. The atmosphere was wild. Music blared, accompanied by dizzying colorful lights, and almost everybody wore a mask. By the end of the night, there were people walking around in 10-foot-tall flamingo-creature costumes.

We made it back to the hostel safe and sound and crawled into bed around 3:30 a.m. Thirty minutes later, our fellow hostel residents threw a loud party in the lobby outside of our room. It made us all the more glad to check out the next morning.

In Calcio news, team Celeste remains undefeated! Ole!

Conciseness isn’t my specialty, so thanks for reading y’all. A dopo!