So I lied. That last blog was written Thursday afternoon and the night was pretty exciting, and since not much happened Friday (procrastination) I'll lump the two together.
Thursday night, I had my weekly Italian Studies class, which is an extremely informal class. Some weeks we learn really cool stuff, some weeks we go to a bar, and some weeks we do both. This Thursday night was pretty exciting (even though no one got drunk) because the topic was immigration. Basically, Peter had the brilliant idea of sticking representatives from all the major immigrant groups in the same room and have them answer the question: "what does it mean to be a ...(Romanian) in Italy). I believe the Romanians are actually the largest minority here now and that answer is tough, because "they assume you must speak Russian or something."
We also heard Joseph's story. He's a guitar playing, Bob Marley singing Nigerian who works in the nearby town of Pesaro, because he was scared out of his country. The story goes that he was a very successful musician back in Nigeria and that the government does not support success stories. So one night, 2 armed men entered in the night and demanded all his expensive equipment. But wait, it gets better. Instead of breaking down the door to get in. they threw acid on the wall. Good story.
