Category: Study Abroad

Laura Razzuri
Contributing Writer 

I arrived in Amman at three in the morning. Jetlagged, nervous and incredibly excited, I made my way through customs and into a new world that, for the next year, I would call home. On my drive to my apartment I looked out and saw all the shops, restaurants and big city lights. There was a beautiful balance of modernity and tradition, and I could feel the call to prayer reverberating through the city. I knew right then and there I had picked the perfect place to study abroad. Living in Amman was going to be challenging, yet the challenge was exactly what I was looking for.

Amman is the capital of Jordan, right at the center of the Middle East. Jordan isn’t in the “safest” of neighborhoods, as it shares borders with Israel-Palestine, Saudi Arabia, Egypt, Syria and Iraq. Despite the unrest in the region, Jordan has been relatively calm. In a region so volatile, Jordan considers itself the eye of the storm, experiencing peace compared to the extraordinary changes happening around it. As an interdepartmental Middle Eastern studies major, there has never been a better time to study Arabic and the Middle East. I was encouraged by my advisors to take full advantage of the opportunities I would have in Jordan.

I have been studying Arabic at the University for the past two years. Despite it being a small program with no official minor yet, it is on the forefront of Arabic language study. Arabic is one of the most difficult languages to learn, and what many don’t understand is the difference between Modern Standard Arabic (Fusha) and the Colloquial language (Ammiyya). Traditionally, most universities only provide courses in MSA, which is the formal written language used in official documents. On campus, Assistant Professor of Arabic Martin Isleem also teaches the Levantine Dialect (Palestinian, Jordanian, Lebanese and Syrian) in tandem with MSA. Ammiyya is the language that dominates everyday interactions. For those who want to live in the Arab world, learning Ammiyya is more than necessary.

In my program in Jordan, I am the only student who has taken a formal class in dialect. The incredible advantage I have over my peers is my ability to communicate with local Jordanians. I am able to give directions in taxis, order food at restaurants, navigate grocery stores and bargain for good prices. It is amazing how quickly I became comfortable living in Amman. I cannot thank Professor Isleem enough for emphasizing the importance of learning colloquial dialect. I have been placed in the most advanced courses due to great preparation I had before coming here. It has made all the difference in my experiences here in Jordan so far.

For my first semester, I am in a Diplomacy and Policy Studies program. My professors are notable former diplomats that provide great insight into the field, with a Middle Eastern perspective. Every week I get to meet former Prime Ministers, Intelligence Officers and members of the Royal Family. I also have been placed in an internship. I work for a local non-profit that focuses on fighting corruption. I am getting firsthand experience in working abroad in the Middle East. Next semester I am taking courses at the University of Jordan. It will be a full Arabic immersion program. I will get to live with a family and truly work on my Arabic language skills.

It has never been a more perfect time to study Arabic and the Middle East. Middle Eastern culture is widely misunderstood, and the best way to break the barrier of cultural understanding is through language. Arabic itself is a critical language and will only continue to grow in importance. The region itself is facing remarkable changes and it’s only wise to be on the forefront of this up and coming area of study. I am thankful for having such a strong background in Arabic language and for the support the University has provided me in exploring my academic interests.

By Zack Beltran

Contributing Writer

Last semester, I had the privilege of studying abroad in Florence, Italy. Being Italian, I was so excited to “go home.” I could not wait to eat pizza, pasta and gelato every day, visit all of the major sites and “be Italian!” And that’s exactly what I did.

I studied abroad at Syracuse University in Florence, with eight other University students. During my experience, these students (and many other young adults on the program) became some of my best friends. We laughed together, ate together and traveled to eight countries and twenty-five cities together.

While in Europe, I visited Italy (obviously), France, England, Ireland, Malta, Germany, Austria and the Vatican. I ate crepes in Paris, pasta in Italy, schnitzel in Austria and pretzels in Germany. We visited the Eiffel Tower, the Leaning Tower of Pisa, the Colosseum, Big Ben and Buckingham Palace, just to name a few. I went shopping in Paris and toured the very green hills of Ireland. I had the perfect European semester abroad!

While I can look back now and say that studying abroad was one of the best experiences both during college and in my life (I want to go back!), it definitely had its challenges. Going to Italy, I had never even taken an Italian class and was nervous to interact with the locals. I eventually began to learn more and more of the language and felt comfortable in Italy.

Like anything that pushes you out of your comfort zone, studying abroad has challenges that reap great rewards. After my return to America, I feel so much more cultured and have a new appreciation for the luxuries we have in America and at the University.

I’m studying economics and sociology here, and I believe that studying in Europe has further enhanced my education. I can use my knowledge and experiences from abroad in the classroom and extra-curricular activities as well as my job search. For anyone considering going abroad, I think that it is definitely one of the best decisions you can make. No matter where you choose to go, whether it’s Italy or down under in Australia, you will learn so much about a new place, a new culture and yourself. You may never want to leave, but coming back to the University is always great! Going abroad literally gives you the best of both worlds.

By Courtney Flagg

Editor-in-Chief

I can take away a lot of things from my time in Italy. I remember sipping espresso at a bar in a forgotten alley behind a magnificent basilica. I remember wandering the rows of fresh produce in the daily markets in Piazza dei Signori and Piazza Erbe in Padova. I remember getting hopelessly lost in the streets of Siena and miraculously making it back to catch the correct train home. My memories are laced with beautiful images of classic Italian architecture, rolling hills and snow-capped Alps. But my most important abroad experience can’t be expressed in a picture or in a simple, but pretty, description.

The Italian town I studied abroad in was not like Rome, or Florence, or Milan, where English is just as common as the national Italian language. In Padova, a small fraction of the population speaks English. Many shopkeepers, restaurant owners and coffee baristas don’t know English at all, so speaking Italian is absolutely imperative in order to function as a regular member of society.

I had been warned before leaving the United States that the program I was to participate in was a real immersion program. But it took nearly my whole five months abroad to completely understand what that meant.

Of course, the first few hours I spent with my host family when I arrived in late January were uncomfortable. It seemed like the Italian I had been studying the past two and a half years had completely escaped me. I couldn’t form coherent sentences and found myself speaking a mixture of Spanish and Italian in my jittery state, leaving my host family very confused and myself completely frustrated.

I spent the first few days in Padova timidly avoiding having to speak Italian at all for fear of making grammar and vocabulary mistakes. I would craft grammatically perfect sentences in my head so that I could whip them out at my host family’s dinner table while eating gnocchi alla romana or melanzane alla parmigiana. I carefully planned my studying of the street graffiti peppered around town so I didn’t have to interact with locals. These habits lasted approximately four days.

After only a few days, I saw a dramatic change in my speaking and understanding abilities of the Italian language. It didn’t happen on purpose, and it wasn’t planned on my part. It just happened. It was like a switch in my brain had turned on. Slowly I found myself thinking in Italian. I no longer had to think about what I wanted to say in order to say it. Words left my mouth confidently, and I was surprised to find out that I was forming coherent sentences with them. I was finally able to understand my hyperactive, fast-talking host sister, who, according to my host mom, Italians couldn’t understand.

When my parents came to visit me in early April, I brought them to meet my host family. I was deep in conversation with my host dad and was addressing my American dad throughout the conversation, asking for his input. Frustrated by my father’s lack of participation I turned to him only to realize I had been speaking Italian the whole time and my American parents had no idea what I was asking them.

I can’t count the number of times I have invented new English expressions because I forgot the corresponding English word. I once told friends from my program that I had to ‘do a brain appointment’ so I wouldn’t forget to ‘do check-in’ on a RyanAir flight. English translation? “I need to remember to check-in online for my flight to Istanbul.”

Yes, I will always remember the crystal blue waters of Capri, crossing the Ponte Vecchio at night, and first laying my eyes on the Coliseum. But what remains engrained in my mind is the way I was able to haggle over the price of a leather jacket, avoid the tourist fee for museums and gossip with my host sisters because of my ability to speak the native language.

It has been said multiple times, by multiple people, in multiple ways, that spending a semester abroad ‘changes’ you. I refused to believe the cliché that so many people affirmed and hopped onto the airplane to Italy last January convinced I would come back the same brazen, sarcastic and jaded girl that left the United States. I proved my stubborn self wrong.

When I arrived back in the United States in June, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu. I was having issues communicating with my American mother and father during the 40-minute car ride from JFK airport to my home in Westchester, N.Y. I was frustrated because I couldn’t say what I wanted to. Except the language I was having trouble with wasn’t Italian, it was English.

By Julie Kohn

Contributing Writer

“Root” in Aussie lingo means to have sex, “thongs” are flip flops, “lollies” are candies and girls with bangs have “fringe.” Stepping foot off the plane into the country of boomerangs, roos and koalas, I had a lot to learn. On my plane ride to the “land down under,” I held a feeling of uncertainty far greater than any I’d ever faced. I heard the “ding” as the “fasten seatbelt” sign lit up above me. The clouds broke and the deep teal water slapped against the fine white sand. I was looking down at my new home for the next five months. “Is this real life?” the guy behind me asked, and all of the Americans around me laughed. We were all astounded that we were not only privileged to visit this oasis, but that we were going to be exploring it for months.

My studies in Australia were structured so that I was able to travel often–and I did, stopping in New Zealand on the way home. I’d been on 26 flights within six months by the time I got home. Ask any of my University friends, and they’ll tell you I am a safe person, but something about being in another country made me feel like I was in a fairytale. In Australia I hopped with hundreds of wild kangaroos, jumped 14,000 feet out of a plane, held a fuzzy koala, scuba-dived the Great Barrier Reef, cliff jumped in the rainforest and slept for eight nights in the wild Outback. In New Zealand I whitewater rafted down a 21-foot waterfall, climbed a volcano, got pushed down a hill in a giant hamster-ball (zorbing), learned how to play underwater hockey and visited the Shire from “The Lord of the Rings.”

In Australia I was at first confused by the style of learning. But having little homework allowed me to understand that in Australia, living your life took a priority over studying every single night until 1 a.m. and fitting fun in on the side. The Aussies really do live life with “no worries.” Once I was able to understand their accents a little better I met a great group of girls who became my family there. I think they were just as interested in learning about American ways as I was in learning about theirs. What are squirrels? Reese’s peanut butter cups? Are there really fraternities? What’s a sorority? Sharing my culture became a part of our relationship as much as my learning about theirs. For Halloween I helped them carve pumpkins and one night we made (makeshift) s’mores.

Fast-forward to spring break: the Australian Outback. With my program of about 15 Americans we spent eight nights sleeping under the infinite night sky of the Outback: no civilization, no tents. This is when I began to taste the communal feeling the Australian Aboriginal people feel with their country. I sniffed in the red dust and gazed at the land stretching in front of our truck, layered in sharp spinifex grass, vast gorges filled with the magic of water and in the distance the sacred rock of Uluru.

When I had finally settled into my Aussie life, it was time to leave for New Zealand. I explored the north island of the great sheep country with friends from Germany and Taiwan. Our cheap rental car zipped (on the left side of the road) through mountains, along the coast and through the famous Lord of the Rings background. While eating Tim Tams (the famous Australian chocolate cookie) and looking towards the south island on our last night I began to hum “Hallelujah”–you know, that song from “Shrek.” To my surprise my friends began to join in. Three friends all from different continents, together in New Zealand, humming the same song. The world really is a small place.

When I got back to Lewisburg the administration asked what we had learned, and this is what I said: Vegemite on toast is equal to eating straight salt. If you don’t know what it is, don’t touch it, because it might kill or paralyze you. You need to be happy both independently and when with friends. Live your life first and do your work second.

By Wes Pyron

Contributing Writer

Simply put, I cannot last one full day without some sight, song, saying, or daydream that somehow warps itself into a memory of my time in Granada. The enthralling beauty of a Lewisburg sunset is comparable only to that of the sunset over the Alhambra; hearing “Stereo Love” while absentmindedly attempting to do homework in Seventh Street Café fuels a desire to dance like we did in El Camborio (half club, half cave, mind you). Even the Rooke Chapel bells tolling the University’s alma mater are distinctly familiar to a church I passed each afternoon walking home from class in Granada. Heck, even trips to Wal-Mart are sentimental; I can’t get past the produce section without reminiscing (Granada means pomegranate in Spanish).

My semester abroad was collectively the greatest experience of my life. To clarify, I use the term “collectively” because each day in Spain was a gem in itself. Granted, at the time, simple daily activities like walking to the post office, sprinting to a café between classes, and afternoons at Hannigan’s Pub (for the free wi-fi, obviously) seemed to be leisurely activities to speed the day along. Although the waffles in Belgium, fish-n-chips in London, gyros in Athens and pizza/pasta binges in Italy were unforgettable, it is those simple Spanish memories that I cherish the most.

Granada is one of the coolest cities I’ve ever been to. The historical relevance is captivating, as is the city’s sense of pride in its history.  Each new bit of information, each question answered and each visit to a historic building helped accumulate such a vast pool of knowledge that I often found myself wishing I had the rest of my life to wake up and experience Granada each day. (Sidenote: the Alhambra should be on your list of things to see.) This fortress is known as a “palace city” composed of a defensive perimeter, multiple palaces and El Generalife, which consists of additional palaces, gardens and orchards. The city of Granada is so culturally dynamic due partially to its diverse history of rulers. Since its establishment by the ancient Romans, the Visigoths, the Moors, various Arabic dynasties, the Catholic Monarchs and Spain have all played a role in the city’s development.

Oddly, I miss the language barrier. I miss not being able to assume the ability to communicate. I miss repeating the same few key words over and over again, while simultaneously combining them with awkward finger pointing and hand motions. I miss ordering my food incorrectly and not having the bravery (or vocabulary) to correct it.

But more than anything, I miss the pace and mindset of each day. Despite severe lack of sleep for most of my time there, looking back I realize I was refreshed and spiritually content nearly every single day. The relaxed pace of the day meant that despite any upcoming exam, gypsy who felt the need to steal my iPhone, or stranger who wanted to steal my wallet in a club, today I would trade anything to be sitting along the stone wall of the Mirador de San Nicolas, waiting for that sunset over the Alhambra.