⋆ Second Gen Desi ⋆
Milan, Italy

Ferie Freak-Out

Reading Time: 5 minutes

I value having paid vacation. Days off for fill-in-the-blank leave. But like with anything else in this world, there has to be balance, and it has to make sense.

When I was in grade school, my school adopted a novel-for-that-era schedule. From 3rd grade through 5th grade (6th grade I left for middle school), I was on a year-round schedule, meaning that the school was open year-round, but parents had the choice to put their kids in one out of four tracks.

We had red, yellow, green, and blue tracks, and their distinguishing factor was what months each track got off.

My parents were intrigued by blue track because the off months were perfect for traveling sans crowds. September? January? May? Sure, their kids would have to sit in class during the traditional dog days of summer, but at least they could plan a long trip to India in the off-season and save hundreds on our flights.

I personally wanted to be in red track, because naïve little me thought I could use third grade to win over Jainey’s friendship, even though she made it clear time and time again I could never fit in with her Filipino clique.

But I digress…

Looking back, I’m glad I got to have that unique experience. We had some really amazing family trips during our off months those years, and I think they might not have been so great if we had to battle summer crowds.

Also, going to school during the summer wasn’t *too* bad. My teachers were usually lax, and we got to do more activities outside, while cooling off with treats like popsicles and ice cream cups after a long, hot week—if my teachers thought we were deserving of it!

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I eventually got to experience my years of a real “American summer break” once I hit middle and high school, but family vacations were no longer the priority. They couldn’t be, since I was worrying about college and figuring out how to use my time wisely. Long story short, it really didn’t matter, and I do wish I hadn’t been so anxious about things out of my control at such a tender age…

Because I was so used to working through “traditional vacation time” (a lot of my high-achieving, “poor student” friends were), I entered my PhD not batting an eye at the thought of spending almost every day in the lab in some form. For a five-year period, I was able to find moments to carve out time away, but it was never in the form of an elaborate, dedicated vacation.

Even if I was away, I was always “on-call”. In fact, my Dad can attest to the fact I always had some anxiety-ridden episode during my “time off” because one of my undergrad students would message me with a mini-emergency, or my boss would send an urgent email.

I once got in trouble for going home for Thanksgiving. I ended up having a heated meeting with my boss, and even the question of “do PhD students even get time off?” was brought up in conversation. It’s a sad occurrence that is brushed over in the real world, but PhD students don’t have mandated days off. They are at the mercy of their superiors, but even if they do get the okay, the guilt that follows is incredible. When working in the lab, there is never a “good time” to leave…

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When I first came to Italy, I was excited about the thought of the mandated 20 vacation days I heard so much about. I was thrilled about finally having the chance to achieve work-life balance, but what I didn’t realize was that academia is the same all over the world. Even though I was working in Italy, I was working in a lab, so the “standard rules didn’t apply”. It was like I was doing my PhD all over again, and it was one of the many factors that contributed to my misery…

Hot city, minimal traffic – Milan in August

Now that I’m working a “real world” job, I finally have the chance to experience a true “vacation” period, but being Italy, there is always a catch.

Since my contract switched from the US-to-Italy mid-year, my yearly vacation days were adjusted as well. Unfortunately, I “had” to use a good chunk of them during the August period, since that’s when the company I work for (along with most establishments in Italy) closes up shop to “vacation”.

According to this article, abandoning “real life” for the majority of August is an Italian tradition dating back to the BC era. But if I’m being honest, it’s a kooky one that desperately needs to be relooked.

I mean, the article says some Italians have taken out loans this year just to vacation in August. Um, WHAT?!

Why with the criticism and lack of appreciation for the fact I even have time off finally? Because at the end of the day, there is no freedom in this procedure.

It means not being able to plan an October trip to Malta with my lab bestie from Germany, but rather forced to spend two weeks staring at the ceiling because I am “stuck” in the city. It can be incredibly annoying for those few who are still working/forced to be in the city, since even essential establishments like pharmacies can close up. Google becomes incredibly inaccurate during this time, and not being able to know if a place is *truly* open fuels the frustration even more…

Valentina? Myriam? Seriously?

Lucky for me, my cousin in Cardiff had a change of plans with her summer vacation and I’m actually heading over there for a long-overdue visit this weekend, but if that idea didn’t occur to me, I would indeed be abandoned in the ghost town that is Milano.

If I was “abandoned” in Austin, I could at least count on some vegan restaurants being open. Nothing that I value would be open in Milan…

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This is not to say a dedicated period for time off is “bad”, but forcing everyone to take time off during the period (by mandate or peer pressure) is counterproductive to say the least.

I mean, I get you can’t convince a Boomer to change his/her ways, so have it at August ya’ll! But do I have to be dragged along?

I wouldn’t mind if my superiors got priority to leave in August and I was asked to take leave in the fall (like how it works with my lab bestie’s company in Germany). In fact, I’d be thrilled by it. This would also be of benefit to companies since they can continue to be productive, even if “half-staffed”. Depending on one’s job, it’s not that hard to take on extra tasks temporarily if it means a well-deserved vacation later.

I’m also the kind of person who prefers scattered breaks throughout the year. I have 20 days? Let me do a week off every three months or so…pair it with some national holidays, and BOOM, constant feeling of refreshment while still maintaining productivity!

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Of course, there are people out there that disagree, but I’m a mature individual who encourages discussion and respects healthy discourse. I just think that if we are touting the notion that “one size does NOT fit all” in most topics this day and age—from working style to body image to sleep—how we vacation is something that should be rethought and not another thing to overlook as a tradition everybody loves.

Ha, I’m that American who shakes her head every time she passes a “chiuso per ferie” sign 🤦🏽‍♀️  

It’s common to see these signs posted up in August…

What do you think about how Italians approach mandated vacation?

Do you prefer flexibility with your vacation or like that there is a designated, uniform period for time off?

Share your thoughts with a comment!

Milan, Italy

Keep Calm & Carry (Yourself) On

Reading Time: 6 minutes

This month has been so calm, peaceful, and happy. I didn’t think I’d make it to such a mental state so quickly, but it’s happening.

Besides having a mini emotional breakdown at the end of January (being uncertain about the start of my business trip given the Omicron scare and waiting on the Italian consulate to process critical documentation to begin my EU Blue Card application were my triggers), I’ve felt relatively calm ever since, and I’ve welcomed it with an embrace of a mother who just saw her grown kids after 10 years 😅.

I know that I would have never found my current position in industry if it had not been for academia driving me out of toxic working conditions, but I do wonder what would have happened if I had joined my current company back in June 2020, rather than pursuing a post-doc, if everything I have been provided with so far was provided to me back then 🤔. I am almost certain Italy would have tasted sweeter.

Maybe as sweet as this donut I had the other day? I know, not Italian, but when it comes to breakfast, my cravings are all-American.

I definitely would have been over the moon about the Italian course they are willing to cover. Right now, I feel like I have to force myself to get motivated.

Despite the harsh reality I ended up having to face, I am forever grateful for the current calmness of 2022, and the calmness of my return to Milan especially. I mentioned in the linked post that I face doubts about what my current “passions” are, and if I will find success and happiness if I continue to pursue them, but I must also acknowledge that the new work-life balance I’ve found has allowed me to figure this out, day by day.

With running, I am finding my mental and physical stamina again. In the weeks leading up to my departure to Milan, I was running 9-10 miles for long runs on Sunday mornings. It was easy to zone out, get lost in my Spotify playlists, and enjoy the long Texas roads, stumbling across the occasional longhorn and galloping baby calves 😍.

Spotted after a night run in Milan

While in Italy this month, I crushed my long run goals, going back to running distances that once came second nature to me. 11, 12, 13 mile long runs didn’t feel so intimidating this time around. I ran the hills of Como during these long runs, and I didn’t stop in a work anxiety-induced paralysis, which often prevented me from going the distance last year…

I feel good with my runs so far, even though I’m still off with my goal pace. But based on past experience, I know that increasing my weekly mileage will help. I’m trying to get back to where I was in 2017, where I was running 40-50 miles a week, in peak marathon training shape (pace-wise), and had built great comradery with my marathon training group as a plus. Running with people is a painkiller for me, it feels amazing to run with others, but finding a solid group of people to train with in Italy has been an impossible task. Especially due to the pandemic...

I have a half marathon in Texas scheduled in early April, and my hope while I am at home again for the next four weeks is to incorporate double runs (running in the morning and evening of the same day) again, to hit a higher weekly mileage. In Italy, it seems as though I’m better off finding people who smoke more than participate in cardiovascular exercise, frankly speaking, but we’ll see what happens as the months progress. While in Texas, it shouldn’t be too hard to stop by a Fleet Feet for a weeknight or weekend morning run with a group of like-minded runners 😀.

With writing, I go through moments of impassioned writing bursts, or days of procrastination. I think all writers can relate. Last year, I decided to stop writing short-forms on IG because it is a platform that doesn’t appreciate that kind of work. So now, my writing has become a private endeavor in the short-term, and this tests my patience immensely.

Coffee shop working and writing has always been a hobby of mine. It’s not a usual thing to do in Italy though…

I’ve chosen to keep the details of my writing projects private for now, but my close friends are writers themselves, and it’s been nice being able to bounce ideas off of them now and then. When I was back home, it was easier to write after work, and after an evening run. While in Italy, finding motivation to write in the evenings has been difficult, but I’m trying not to force myself if I don’t feel like it. I’m hoping for more days where I can bust out work in less than an hour due to passion (lol), like a post I wrote regarding Women’s Day. But even if those days are rare for now, I’m trying to use this time to figure out what works best for me when it comes to creating a “writing routine”.

Last week, I was successful in devoting 30 minutes to one of my projects every day, no matter what. Even if some of those sessions were not extremely productive, the minutes I had my doc open helped me in some form with the process as a whole. I’m hoping to continue meeting these “mini goals” because it’s better than not doing anything at all!

With my career, it’s something I’ve said a number of times but still holds true—leaving academia meant getting my mental health back. There is no doubt that me talking about running and writing here is because now I have the time to invest in them again.

I was also able to work remotely 2x a week while I was in Italy! It made long walks or lunchtime breaks outdoors so easy to fit in, and it definitely made me happy…

My job so far has been so perfect in terms of work-life balance, but even within the role, there have been discussions on what I can be involved with in the near future. Like, pipeline stuff. In the industry, this refers to a series of projects the company is working on or plans to work on. Some of the items proposed to me sound really exciting, and sound like they would utilize my skillset. Makes me feel important 😌

With life abroad, I still don’t know if I desire anything new. I had really high hopes during my first Italy stint, but learning the language is something that no longer excites me. Still, I will give it my best shot with the classes my company is offering me, it’s the least I can do, but if I had to choose between becoming an elite runner overnight or waking up speaking fluent Italian? I’d go with elite runner, hands down.

Do I want to travel? Sure, but only if the travel is spent with people I want to be with. I still haven’t been south of Florence when it comes to Italy. I’m saving places like Rome and Naples for when people I love can join me on those adventures. In the near-term, I don’t expect my family or close friends to be able to afford to see me in Italy, and so I have no complaints about going to see them where they are. My friend in Germany recently invited me to join her in Turkey for a few days during the summer to attend a wedding. I’d love to join her for that, only so I can spend quality time with her. I’ve heard Turkey is beautiful, but I don’t have the desire to go by myself at the moment. Such a stark difference from my solo travel days…

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It’s nice to be able to reflect on these past few weeks and be happy with them. I can only hope that things continue to go well and develop to my liking, but like I mentioned in a post from a few weeks ago, I’m attempting to adopt a “cruise control” attitude for all of these things. I know now that I can experience calmness for a long period, and that makes me feel so good.

And it only further drives home the point that our environment is so powerful, so do whatever you can to put yourself in a place that gives you the best possible.

Earth

A Women’s Day Reflection

Reading Time: 4 minutes

With this post, I risk people not agreeing with me, but that’s okay. If this sparks discussion, debate, and helps others to think from a different perspective, I am all for it.

I did not know Women’s Day existed until I came to Italy. I grew up in a country where we get time off for presidents, activists, veterans, and military, but the closest thing to Women’s Day I was familiar with was Mother’s Day. And to me, that day grew tense with each passing year.

As my mother succumbed more and more to her mental illness, I resented the fact that there was a day to celebrate her. In my teenage mind, she didn’t deserve it. I would see her verbally and emotionally abuse my father every day without fail, yet, my father would still ask my sister and I to make her a card, and he’d still show up with a bouquet of flowers just to show her he cared.

Despite his kind intentions, she would always find a reason to be suspicious of him. Or yell at him because he bought the flowers from Albertson’s instead of Raley’s.

And when Father’s Day came around? She never did anything special for him. It was up to my sister and I to let our father know we cared. That we needed him and loved him for sticking around.

When I think back to my high school days, I can’t imagine how much psychological torment he had to internalize. There would be nights she would be triggered by the simplest things. If she began yelling at me or my sister, our father would be ready, like a superhero with his shield, ready to deflect her anger from us towards him.

It would give us some modicum of peace to finish homework, but to hear her berate him for hours and hours into the night was not something my sister and I were comfortable with.

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Even with these tense family dynamics, I still grew up a “staunch feminist”. Perhaps it was my mom’s unsubstantiated opinions of men that were ingrained in me for years, but the “men are evil, fear them” “mantra” I grew up with was hard to shake off—until I learned to listen and understand the other side.

When I first met my boyfriend in Italy and we were learning about each other, I shared something nonchalantly on social media that upset him:

The whole pepper spray thing is a topic for another day 😅😅

It was supposed to be a hit at women in my circle who hinted that I need to live in fear and carry pepper spray, but the way I phrased my stance was a hit at all men, and that wasn’t fair. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but seeing how upset it made him feel led me to probe further discussions with him about the topic, which is something I am immensely appreciative for.

I didn’t realize the suicide rate in men is twice as high as for women, on a global scale, and that their access to mental health support is still strongly stigmatized. And what about the “biggest shocker“, that yes, boys and men can be victims of sexual assault and rape, with it being reported that in the US alone, 1 out of every 10 rape victims are male.

These discussions made me realize that gender equality is an extremely convoluted topic that is constantly vacillating from one side to the other. It shouldn’t be about prioritizing one group over another if the goal is equality, yet if we prioritize Women’s Day with flowers and protests, and laugh off Men’s Day (which, by the way is November 19th) as a “creation of jealous men”, we will never achieve the equality we all say we are striving for.

Wonder if the woman who received these mimosa flowers (Italy’s famous tradition) appreciated it, expected it, or yelled at her boy for getting it from the wrong florist 😅

Yes, there are a lot of places in this world where men have a powerful influence and women are stripped of their rights. In South Asian countries and places with similar cultural ideals, this is a huge issue. The recent, artfully-crafted Malayalam movie, Great Indian Kitchen, demonstrated this eloquently.

But even in these cultures, men still suffer. In the South Asian space, Ram of @desi_brotherhood shares relevant information via Instagram feed posts in an unbiased way, and has shared a number of posts regarding domestic violence, mental health, and suicide issues that affect South Asian women and men.

Compared to South Asia, the overall context is different in the Western world. Even though domestic violence is rampant, especially without a doubt in the USA, women in the Western world still do experience a lot more freedoms compared to women of other countries. When I see the stereotypical “Karen” complain more than she should about how “men need to be the providers”, it does irritate me. These are the same women who claim they are independent, self-sufficient, and strong, yet expect “their man” to be the breadwinner and foot the bill of their shopping sprees because “they deserve it!”. This then leads to some men using these women as excuses for not supporting women’s rights, and it ends up being a vicious cycle.

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My intent with this post is not to divert attention from Women’s Day, but to serve as a reflection. I have only a handful of women in my life who I love with all my heart. Who deserve everything beautiful in this world because they truly do deserve it, but there are men in my life who deserve just the same.

So while today is a good day to celebrate women, our love for them, and their achievements, let’s be kind, thoughtful, and empathetic women and do the same for the amazing men in our lives when it’s their turn.

At the end of the day, we shouldn’t be celebrating the chromosomes one carries, but rather the individual those chromosomes serve as roots for.

Milan, Italy

Comfort in English

Reading Time: 7 minutes

Once again, I’ve retreated to the tongue that gives me comfort—English.

Despite years of back-and-forth with my parents trying to practice Tamil.

Despite taking four years of German in high school, and letting an intermediate level college class my freshman year intimidate me from going further.

Despite being enamored by the idea of an adventurous life abroad—first being swayed by Spanish but then pushed towards the direction of Italian, due to available job opportunities in my career field.

But it’s not like I’m monolingual either.

Give me a few minutes, but I can piece letters of the Tamil alphabet together. I remember the phonetics–a, aa, e, ee–and eventually my brain puts two-and-two together.

But are my relatives patient enough for me to spit out the syllables?

In German class, I reveled in the moments Herr L. gave me a 100% on the oral parts of our German exams, or when he awarded me the top German student award my sophomore year of high school.

Did I really let a cold, middle-aged teacher’s assistant get in the way of furthering my Deutsch?

And in graduate school, I thought I wouldn’t ever want to leave LA. But then I experienced a short solo trip abroad, and it led me to daydreaming about a new life chapter in Southern Europe. I took weekend Italian classes for fun. Got my former boss to approve my taking of an introductory Italian course at the university I was working at as a freshly-minted PhD, since I was applying for a post-doc research position abroad. Just when I thought I was doing the right amount of preparation, mixed with a healthy blend of enthusiasm…

COVID-19 hit. Along with other obstacles I wasn’t expecting—little by little, my enthusiasm and motivation for learning a language I thought I would be ready for—Italian—was fading away by the minute.

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I’ve met expats here in Italy who say if they could have changed one thing about preparing for their life abroad in Italy, it would have been to learn the language before arriving. But I have to ask, how much is enough? My casual approach with and exposure to Italian began in December 2018, followed by a summer break, and then a university-tailored introductory semester course in Fall 2019. Even with all of that I didn’t feel prepared, but I did feel motivated. I remember telling my Italian teacher at the end of my “mid-term exam” that I would be moving to Milan in February 2020, and he quipped that I had enough of a foundation to build on. That I was all-set for a really exciting time.

Was what I knew really enough for late summer nights in the heart of Milan?

Needless to say, the dire situation Italy was in during spring 2020 left me troubled and crushed. How could I stay motivated with what was going on in the world? With no end in sight, how could I be so sure I would be moving to Italy at all?

So, I took a break from Italian, that is until things seemed to reshift back into balance. When I finally arrived in Milan late June 2020, I had a quarantine to get through. This allowed me to “stall” in regards to communicating with others, as I was nervous about how much I could get by with, with the little Italian I thought I knew.

My new work colleagues appreciated that I was learning, but they were quick to “assure” me that I would learn Italian as time passed. Not to worry, you can get by with English for now.

But this attitude only left me frustrated, because I was genuinely trying to be vulnerable. I wanted to meet someone who would force me to only communicate in Italian, but everyone seemed too impatient for that.

I soon grew tired of my “switch-to-English” giveaways. My Bank of America credit card. My United States passport. Upon seeing these clues, the baristas, the delivery guys, the grocery store clerks, and the government workers wouldn’t give me a chance to try.

It just felt like I was always getting shut down.

As I continued into summer 2020, I did my best not to give up. I signed up for a premium subscription to a language learning app called Busuu, since it seemed to offer language level tests (that A/B/C system) and certificates to prove your language level. Supposedly, the app even adjusted the predicted time you would reach a certain level (i.e. B2) based on your progress, however I never noticed any changes despite my daily log-ins and obsessiveness to meet the daily time goals. I was able to reason with myself and decide that I would keep my language learning as a solitary activity for the time being, and put things into practice with people as time went on.

Language exchanges for international women seemed like a wonderful opportunity to socialize and practice speaking Italian, in theory…

The chance to practice with others did present itself as short-lived language exchanges. I was able to attend these events on a weekly basis from September through end of October 2020, and even though the idea of participating in a language exchange seemed perfect, what usually ended up happening was that the native English speakers helped the native Italian speakers more than the other way around…

What it really ended up being was an excuse for late evening aperitivo (and dinner for me!) at “trendy” places like the Duomo or Piazza Gae Aulenti.

I was the girl who had to settle for a frappucino at 7pm, because I wanted a drink like all the other girls in attendance, but just not one with alcohol!

But even with a language app and in-person language exchanges, I quickly realized that being in Italy, why wasn’t I taking the opportunity to pursue private lessons with a native speaker? So I met with a girl who was in the same Whatsapp group for international women in the city that I was in. She was a native speaker, and even though she studied languages in college and seemed to be “fascinated by world cultures”, she was anything BUT a patient teacher.

I started my lessons with her, twice a week, at the end of September 2020. I would leave from work on Tuesdays and Thursdays, exhausted as could be, and somehow found my way to her tiny apartment in Lambrate, only to be scolded constantly about everything I was saying wrong.

By our 8th class, I was fed up with her attitude. She knew fully well what my background was—a foreigner with basic Italian, looking to improve her conversational skills. Yet this girl could not hold back on her attitude, telling me I needed to study and memorize as if I was taking lessons from her for an upcoming exam.

Missy. I came to Italy for what I thought would be an enriching experience. Not to be repirmanded by a impaziente brat like you.

I took to Instagram to “clap back” at her so to speak, and I was met with numerous comments in support of my situation, with commenters agreeing that this so-called “tutor” had no right to act the way she did. That teachers—especially foreign language teachers—should show kindness, patience, and empathy.

A fellow expat helped me connect with M., a British woman who spoke fluent Italian. I thought perhaps taking lessons with someone who could understand my background better was worth a shot. And given that COVID lockdowns were reinstated in late October 2020, our bi-weekly Skype sessions were appropriate with the new mandates.

M knew that my weakest link was with speaking. A couple of lessons in, we would devote the first half hour of lessons to just having a conversation, which I appreciated at first, but then found mentally draining.

Going into 2021, I was feeling extremely exhausted. Extremely depressed. There were other factors in my life that were taking precedence, and trying to hold onto Italian lessons when I felt like my foundation was crumbling was unbearable.

Those short-lived moments of September-October 2020 seemed like a distant memory once 2021 hit…

I remember not signing into a Saturday morning class at the end of March 2021. I was feeling frustrated and angered by the events that had played out by the end of that work week. I couldn’t shake away the emotional turmoil I was feeling.

M. had called wondering why I hadn’t signed in for class that morning, and I felt bad for not giving her enough notice, knowing that she was taking time out of her day too. But I had to be honest with myself, and I left her an audio message with uncontrollable sobs that intercalated with my shaky words.

I wasn’t sure if this was worth it. If I could stick it out here. And if I couldn’t…what was the point of learning this language?

She was kind in her response, and empathized with my situation with sincerity. She knew my desire to address some major factors in my life, and understood that in order for me to do that, lessons would have to take a backseat.

Once I acknowledged that I needed this hiatus in order to tackle the issues that seemed to be clouding my life, I felt okay. Italian would certainly be more fun to learn once I was in a better state physically, mentally, and emotionally.

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My goals have changed since that first Italian class in December 2018. Life’s twists and turns brought me to Italy, but the experiences that followed have tested my patience, my strength, my confidence, and most importantly, my humility.

It depends on the situation, but I have accepted that there are times I need to be kind to myself on this journey. If I need to recruit a native speaker to help me with governmental paperwork, I don’t feel guilty if they end up making numerous phone calls on behalf of me, but I still do get frustrated if someone cuts to English with me if I feel like I’m doing okay.

I’m still waiting on a lot of things. Opportunities that will perhaps push me to practice Italian more. Situations that present themselves as worth learning Italian for. But until that happens, I’ve allowed myself to “take a break” from actively learning Italian, even as I continue to live and work here.

Somewhere up in those Italian hills…

And for those that doubt my language learning journey or question my why, I must say this: there is nothing wrong in retreating to the language that gives you the words to express the deepest feelings in your soul. There is nothing wrong in seeking comfort in the language that gives you your voice, while trying to understand your purpose in a new world.

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