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Study Abroad Resources

Author: Samuel Hardeman

Hello curious readers! My Name is Sam Hardeman and I am a student at Loyola studying finance and chemistry for undergrad.  A few candid facts about me to get acquainted: I love food, I've always been interested in seeing the Italian prairies, and I'd really love to get to know all types of people with incredible talents. I hope that my unique lens into this inspiring experience will offer you entertainment as well as interest in visiting Rome yourselves.
Che Figata!

Che Figata!

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As Rene Descartes says, “If you spend too much time traveling you will become a stranger in your own home” but does it count if your home is in a foreign place..?

While in Rome I have become acquainted with the old nomadic lifestyle of constant movement. Whenever it seems that I may remember the name of the corner coffee shop, the corner changes along with the name of the city that I am staying in. However, not all is lost, along with my lack of orientation, because as the cities change I maintain my curiosity.

However, it is neither the illustrious Churches with all their golden skies and white marble cloud covered floors, nor the magnificent statues who bring older men to their knees in envy of their immortal essences that grab hold of my mind and soul. There are those places unseen and unrecognized that hold true rare brilliance. There is a museum found curbside the Arno River, near the city center, that has little to no foot traffic. Constantly ignored by the diamond-eyed tourism, is Galileo Galilei’s dedication from the people of Florence. When walking through the levels of repossessed mechanisms, it is enlightening to look at the makeshift wonders that still currently shape our mind and beliefs in the material world. From 500-year-old equipment made to predict the arrangement of our stars today, to the first pulleys whose design would lead to the industrial revolution and elevators. If you are allowed the chance, visit Florence and return home to the origin of what we call direction, speed, and the primary properties. Then take the elevator down to experience his brilliance. Che Figata!

Festina Lente

Festina Lente

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Do you remember somersaulting down hills as a child? Slowly you begin to gain speed and soon enough you lose sight of everything happening around you, seemingly lost in a whirlwind of fun, tossing and turning without any knowledge of current orientation or surroundings. Traveling from one foreign place to another can interpolate a very similar sensation of unconsciousness.

This past weekend I traveled to the home of the world’s most illustrious spas and bath houses. Budapest, unbeknownst to myself prior, is home to much more than saunas and savory local cuisine. The people there are the true prize to be seen. They ooze a sense on self individualized confidence. Not only can you feel it in the instance when the eyes of the older Olaf-esk brute from the other side of the steam room is staring you down to your soul, but also, as you are received by the jaunty bartender who offers you his best beer on draught with a smile and a trusting gleam in his gaze.

The city has been through quite a load over the past five centuries or so, (I challenge you to research that) and the stories are inscripted beautifully into stone and mortar in order to last generations. Moreover, the stories seen in the marble depicted scenes are of heroic ancestors and invading aliens; rather than victors and vanity, so that the true history of Budapest’s people will never be lost in time. My experience, on the contrary, seemed to have fallen victim to my hurrying from monument to monument, church to castle, and bar to bath; though I was constantly entranced by the east/west median of European culture, never once could I feel the slowness of home in which every second seems indulge-able. Nay, I would not suggest that I am home sick, but rather, I would infer that I must take a lesson from the story of August on my next trip, and that is to hurry slowly. Festina Lente!

Veni!

Veni!

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From endless fog to Etruscan fountains, the archaic rolling hills of the eternal city have entangled my highly abbreviated 21st-century attention span. The vistas and monumental lifestyles of the commonwealth are far beyond any expectation that I formed prior crossing the Rubicon. “I cannot go back”, I tell myself; even during those lonely moments of longing for the snow powdered streets of Chicago and Midwestern style breakfasts. Even then, amidst my hometown withdrawal, it seems all I need do is take a walk down the straggly brick-lined streets and shout “Ciao!” to the occasional passerby to feel the unconditional love and desire I so dearly miss. I am okay mom and dad, the people here (although sometimes they do give me the glare “silly American”) love me because I too love their culture. I came to a place that I am happy to be able to call home for some time, and you need not worry; my guardians here are not only the parental SLA’s but also my foreign neighbors and centuries-old monuments (more than twice my height and I’m pretty tall) all of whom look over me with caring eyes. I will be home sooner than perspective would suggest and when I am I will have stories to tell of the Farnese’s, Cesar’s, and many more statues of the past. Figaro! Arrivederci!