A few days left in Italy. My teaching finished Friday and today is Tuesday. I’ve gone through all my stuff.

Some was bagged and taken to a church for people who could use it, some packed up only to be left with Steve, some forced into my bag and the rest I am convinced I can wear in layers. The cycle continues. It is of no uniformity though. A day here, a month there, and a week for this place. Turin saw three months of me. I’ve said since the moment I stepped foot here that I love this city, but what will remain in my memory forever are, as always, the people I’ve known here.

Italians are not a patriotic people. Many outsiders don’t understand this. It is more common to hear a person refer to herself as Torinese (the city) or Piemontese (the region). History explains this for us, so I will leave it to her. Torinese people are among the most, if not the most, reserved of Italians. The stereotype of the warm, friendly Italian is one freely attributed to “the South” by everyone I know here. I have two very different impressions of Torineses. One is the person with their over-sized sunglasses, stilettos, and so called fashion conscious outfit, walking down the pedestrianized Via Garibaldi. The only look bestowed upon me is a glance or stare of semi-judgmental fashion criticism. Not many people here speak English, and when they do, it is almost always extremely basic—akin to my Italian. These are the reserved, snobbish Torineses. I’m not a fan.

The second kind of people I’ve known here are my students. They are some of the warmest, kindest, sweetest people I’ve ever known. Perhaps on Via Garibaldi, they would give the same stare as their fellows. But in the classroom, they are eager to answer my naïve questions on local restaurants, where to buy a certain kind of necklace, or how to get to a museum. They want to know about the culture I come from. They laugh at my ridiculous and usually embarrassing stories of my everyday life in Torino. We go out to dinner, exchange emails, have drinks. These are the Torinese people at their best. They open themselves to me because the classroom and my personality demand an intimate relationship from the first. Probably the woman who glared at my Reef flip flops and baggy shorts (I borrowed them from Steve) would be as helpful and friendly if she and I were ever given the chance to know each other. But we weren’t given that chance.

I had four classes this summer. Each of those classes were unique, but I must admit I had my favorites! I always looked forward to teaching and would leave class with a smile of pleasure that lasted an hour at least.View image
These classes were composed of my all time favorite students. They were also a time when I was learning as much as the students. We shared a lot of laughter too. I really came to love some of them and am sad to go and yet go with the knowledge that some are friendships for life. Massimo, who was rather like an administrator and sometimes students in one. View image
I know there are so many that I should pay tribute to, so instead of saying names, pictures of some are included. I'm sure my favorites knew they were favorites. I'm never good at hiding that!

Oh, and I must say also, that other teachers were wonderful to know. My favorite was my buddy Max. Mexican-Italian, we shared many a corona and poems before and after classes.
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