“I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness…” is the legendary opening line. Following its publication and the trial for obscenity, Allen Ginsberg’s poem Howl became – and still is today – the symbol of the beat generation and of a new form. The homonymous movie, which was scarcely shown and received fairly quietly in the UK, is visually compelling, mixing black and white lyrical shots with animations. Alongside fellow beat authors Kerouac and Cassidy and lover Peter Orlowsky, his voice not really narrating the movie but accompanying it (now reading triumphantly, now responding calmly to the interviewer), Ginsberg was masterfully played by James Franco.

Franco, 33, can swing between arthouse and commercial with great ease and has not been limiting himself to being “just” an actor (and a very successful one). He is known for his famous interpretation of James Dean, movies such as 127 hours and Milk, blockbusters like Spiderman or the forthcoming The planet of apes prequel, art exhibitions at the Gagosian gallery, working on a PhD, studying design and creative writing, publishing a collection of short stories, and soon realising an EP. Overall, he has shown a great creative hunger, including a strong literary ambition. While it was reassuring to hear him humbly (?) confess in an interview with Charlie Rose at Brown University that he “did not intend to write Ulysses”, his involvement with literature and writing adds an interesting layer to his interpretations.

In fact, he has now tackled the character of another poet, the complex Hart Crane. Crane (1899-1932) was heir to a Cleveland fortune and a poet in 1920s New York City. Author of White buildings (1926) and The bridge (1930), known for the difficulty of his style, Crane was admired by the likes of Allen Tate, E. E. Cummings and William Carlos Williams, and influenced later generations of poets, including Allen Ginsberg. James Franco was so fascinated by the character that not only he interpreted Hart Crane, but he also wrote, directed and produced the biopic.

The movie, shot entirely in black and white, is titled The broken tower, from one of Crane’s last poems inspired by his only known heterosexual affair with a friend’s wife, Peggy Cowley, who joined him in Mexico in 1932 where he was on a Guggenheim Fellowship. Returning from Mexico, Crane committed suicide jumping overboard the steamship that was bringing him back to New York. He drowned in the Gulf of Mexico. The broken tower is also the title of Crane’s biography, published in 1999 by Paul Mariani, who worked with James Franco on the movie.

Presented last Monday at the Los Angeles Film Festival, The broken tower received mixed reviews, which was predictable. We now await the release of the movie.

Regardless of season, weather and occasion, the sensation of a frozen dessert titillating the palate is delightful. Whether it is ice cream, sorbet, sherbet, frozen yogurt, granita or parfait, those of us with a sweet tooth find it practically impossible to politely refuse a tempting offer… for more!!

Most popular of all is undeniably ice cream. A typical ice cream mix contains milk and cream, sweeteners, sometimes eggs and of course flavouring. This mixture is briefly heated and homogenised before it is subjected to rapid freezing. Surrounding the bowl containing the mix with a medium at subzero temperature achieves swift removal of heat from the mix. Cooling the mix in this way ensures the formation of only small and uniformly distributed ice crystals in the cream, while at the same time, vigorous stirring further prevents ice crystals from forming into large clusters. But most importantly, churning is necessary in order to trap air bubbles in the mix while it freezes. Ice cream is effectively foam that has been stabilised by freezing the liquid and therefore air bubbles are necessary in order for the final frozen product to be ‘scoopable’ rather than ‘sawable’! Various frozen desserts are made from different mixes-for example, sorbet and granita mixes are based on fruit instead of dairy products-but the preparation is very much the same.

The history of ice cream is laced with intriguing stories about its eastern origin and nobility-exclusive hush-hush formula. Some of these stories are probably true and without doubt some are just charming fairy tales. However, rationally speaking, making ice cream is as close to chemistry as one can get on a white apron and toque, probably too close for comfort! Therefore, because the ingredients and way they are processed are all so specific, it is highly unlikely that someone could get it right by chance, at least not before scientists deciphered certain chemical processes. Most importantly, the low temperatures needed to freeze the ice cream could not have been easily achieved before, some 400 years ago, culinary circles got wind of the scientific discovery that salted ice induces considerably more cooling than ice alone.

I hope that the reference to chemistry will not intimidate any curious ice cream fans from making ice cream at home. It’s not difficult and it’s fun! But it would be better to avoid improvising and stick to the recipe, unless you understand well the underlying molecular processes. For example, you might be tempted to make ice cream without any sweeteners in order to reduce the calorific content. I recently learnt that this would not work so well, because the sweeteners are not just for taste, but they actually lower the temperature at which the liquid mix becomes solid (freezing point) and thus prevent it from becoming rock-hard in the refrigerator. Adding alcohol has a similar effect, but with a few extra drops you can easily cause your mix not to be able to freeze, because of the extremely low freezing point. Have an extra sip or two if you must, but leave the mix alone! If calories are not a problem and you feel like making an exceptionally rich dessert using only cream and no milk, you should reconsider because it’s the fats in the milk and not in the cream that facilitate the incorporation of air bubbles in the mix. You could end up with a very dense product that requires a drill and lots of muscle to break through it!

A vast assortment of ice cream flavours can be found around the globe nowadays, adapted for different cultures, climates and tastes. Growing a little tired of the typical vanilla-chocolate-strawberry trio, I turned …East and looked for inspiration. Here are some ideas for ‘ethnic’ ice creams that are usually received well by Western palates.

Matcha ice cream is a very popular ice cream in Japan and other countries of East Asia. Very refreshing and very… green! Matcha is the emerald-green tea powder traditionally used in the Japanese tea ceremony, but you don’t need expensive ceremonial-grade matcha to make ice cream. Red bean (azuki) ice cream is another very popular Japanese ice cream flavour, as well as Okinawan sweet potato, cherry blossom (for a limited season) and the nutty-tasting black sesame (goma) ice cream. Japan is also famous for strange ice cream flavours, so if you are feeling adventurous, this is the country to look for truly jaw-dropping tastes!

Kaimaki ice cream is a luscious ice cream, made with mastic and salep and is very popular in Greece. The ingredients are unique and give it a very distinct flavour. Mastic is the crystallised aromatic resin harvested from the tree pistacia lentiscus, mainly growing on the Greek island of Chios. Salep is a flour produced by grinding orchid dried roots and is used as a thickening agent for this ice cream, giving it also distinctive elasticity. Kaimaki ice cream is served with syrupy sweets, such as kataifi, or for something… ehm… lighter it goes well with sour cherry syrup and Aegina pistachios. Kaimaki ice cream is very similar to Turkish ice cream.

Kulfi is the Indian version of ice cream and is very popular in that part of the world. The technique for making kulfi is slightly different from ice cream in that you need to let your milk mix simmer slowly in an open pan until about a third of the water has evaporated, while you continuously stir. When the mix is ready, it is not churned during freezing, but instead it is frozen solid. Kulfi is a very dense frozen dessert that takes a long time to melt and can be eaten with knife and fork. Popular ingredients to add flavour and texture are pistachios, mangos, saffron, cardamom, rose water, cinnamon, almonds and malai (clotted cream).

If you are not after exotic flavours, but you just crave for something different, The Parlour Restaurant at Fortnum & Mason in London might inspire you! Their strawberry with balsamic vinegar and walnut with maple syrup scoops were so good that I still regret not trying stem ginger with honey as well!

So, whatever you do, stick to the recipe and… happy summer!

Immigration has always been a controversial issue and no more so than in the twenty-first century, when the opportunities to cross the world in search of improved economic conditions have significantly increased. Yet beyond providing a source of cheap labour and fodder for right-wing tabloids, what effects do the movements of these people actually have? We often hear speak about their impact on the countries that host them, but what about those on their countries of origin?

Until recently we lacked the kind of reliable data necessary to analyze migrant characteristics and patterns of movement. There is however one indicator that remains a constant measure of one important aspect of migration: remittances; the money that migrants send to their families back home.

In 2007, the World Bank estimated remittance flow to have exceeded US $ 318 billion. In fact, the amount sent through formal channels, like Western Union for example, is a small percentage of the overall amount. Generally, migrants prefer to send money through friends or family, or to bring it personally when they go back, in order to avoid paying taxes on the exchange rates or loosing money with money transfers. If we add these informal transfers to the World Bank estimates it appears that the actual amount is almost double the official figure.

Some argue that remittances increase the inequality between people, and that they are not always well invested. Yet there is clear evidence that remittances generally reduce the level, depth and severity of poverty. How does this happen and why?

To begin with, remittances inevitably increase the GDP of the receiving country, injecting wealth into areas that might otherwise be left stagnating. In addition to this, remittances have been showed to efficiently do the job that official aid money so often fails to do. While aid and foreign investment often has to go through government channels, remittance money goes directly to the people in need, skirting corrupt officials or inefficient bureaucratic channels.

Remittances can also reduce some of the damage caused by natural disasters. Senders are likely not to be directly affected by those disasters, their income remains unchanged and so they tend to send more money at home. The Sri Lankan Central Bank, for instance, registered an increase in the amount of remittances from the Gulf State in the months following the 2004 tsunami that had devastated much of the country’s coastal areas.

There is evidence that suggests that people use the money they receive as a building block on which to develop their lives. Budding entrepreneurs can use remittances to invest in small enterprises, such as stores or restaurants, or on houses. Impoverished families can use it on the education of their children. In Nicaragua, for instance, a significant rise in remittance related self-employment has been registered. All in all, these strategies can lead to a long-term growth of capital and resources, which can benefit the country on a wider level.

People also send back money aimed at more than their immediate families but to the communities they came from. Many expatriate organizations now invest in community businesses and infrastructures from abroad, cooperating with community members and the governments of their countries. There are more and more hometown associations of this kind, like, for example, the French organisations de solidarité internationale issues de migrations (OSIM).

Although remittances are unpredictable, thus making it difficult for governmental economic policies to rely on them, their benefits on a macro-level are clear: they improve the creditworthiness of a country and stabilize its national balance of payment.

Let’s take as an example a Nicaraguan man who migrates to England. He sends back home some British pounds, which his wife converts at the bank in the local currency, Córdoba. This then increases the demand for Córdobas, and thus, according to the theory of supply and demand, makes its creditworthiness improve. As a result, on a large scale, the Nicaraguan government will be able to borrow more money abroad, and take part in the international market. In a similar way, remittances can improve the national balance of payment. In fact, the Nicaraguan worker will take money from England and send it to Nicaragua, which will have a higher money entrance and a lower money exit. 

Of course remittances can also lead to inequalities within the community. In fact, when the cost of migration is high, the worst-off often cannot afford to move. Again, we can fairly assume that even when they can migrate, poor or non-educated people will receive a low wage, and then send less money back home. However, whenever people leave their community, they enlarge the migration networks. It follows that even poorer families will be able to send migrants, decreasing the initial inequality.

Still, looking at the dark side, some may claim that emigration of skilled workers, the so-called ‘brain drain phenomenon’, damages host countries that have invested in the education of these people and do not receive any advantage after. Despite the undeniable importance and extent of this problem, the money that these workers send back home can still be used in the process of development of their countries.

Speaking of migration as a wholly positive phenomenon for both the country of origin and the host country, is obviously a blinkered approach as it excludes lots of the issues that accompany it. Yet it remains important to attempt to balance the problems and the benefits that it brings. From an economic angle however, it seems safe to assert that there is clear evidence that migration cannot but help the long-term development of both countries.

Image credits: Brandi Strickland

More than one billion Muslims around the world are exchanging this salute these days.
September 1st, 2008 marked the beginning of Ramadan, the ninth month of the Islamic Calendar, the most blessed month of the year. Ramadan is believed to be the month in which the Qur’an was revealed to Angel Gabriel and then later on to Prophet Muhammad. It is a month in which Muslims fast from sunrise (fajer) to sunset (maghrib). This means they cannot drink, eat, cuss, lie, smoke, or perform sexual activities. Muslims seek a raised level of closeness to God Almighty by fasting. The act of fasting is said to redirect the heart away from worldly activities, its purpose being to cleanse the inner soul and free it from harm. It also allows Muslims to practice self-discipline, sacrifice, and sympathy for those who are less fortunate.
The Islamic calendar is a lunar calendar and has approximately eleven days less than the solar calendar; thus, Ramadan comes at a different date every year, usually ten days before. For example, in 2007 Ramadan began the 13th of September. Every year Ramadan is closer and closer to the summer season, where days and fasting hours are longer.
Living Ramadan in an Arabic country is a very special and unique experience. The country transforms in such a way that you can breathe the essence of Ramadan in the air. In Syria, the canons fire twice a day in order to mark the beginning and end of fasting. Work hours are shortened so that the families can be home earlier in order to prepare themselves for the break of the fast (iftar) at sunset which includes prayer and a meal deserving of a king. Restaurants open only for iftar and close at the sight of the first rays of light when fasting begins once again. People, along with stores, are in the street and awake till dawn. Mini Luna-Parks are set up all over the country. There are special foods served during this period including dates, fried bread covered in date paste, dried figs, and almonds. Lanterns and small yellow lights are hung in the streets. It is a time to spend with family and friends; a time to share.
A typical day during Ramadan begins very early with waking up before sunrise to have a cup of water, a bit to eat, and performing the morning prayer. The day continues as any other day of the year except there is the struggle of refraining from drinking or eating; it is continuous self-discipline. At sunset, fast is broken with a grand meal including rice, meat, vegetables, dips, and infinite Arabic deserts. This is followed by visiting or being visited by family and friends, shopping, and rest. At night, people gather at the mosques to hear the recital of the Qur’an as during Ramadan the Qur’an must be read in its entirety. This is followed by the Suhur meal which begins around 11 pm and can last until dawn. On one of the last ten days of Ramadan, Laylat al-Qadr (Night of Decree) is proclaimed; it is the anniversary of the night Muslims believe the first verses of the Qur’an were revealed to Prophet Muhammad by the angel Gabriel and it is also the anniversary of the night in which the Qur’an is believed by Muslims to have been revealed in its entirety. Muslims gather at the mosque and pray all night as it is believed that Allah (God) will grant any desire wished for during this night. The last days of Ramadan are characterized by stores open 24/7, traffic all day and night, excitement. Ramadan comes to an end at the end of the month with Eid al-Fitr (festival of breaking the fast) which consists of donating money and food to the poor (Zakat), resting, and feasts.
For a non-Mulsim, it is very interesting to follow and be part of these traditions that date back centuries. Respect is obviously the rule of the day; as a non-Muslim it would be discourteous to be in the street and start drinking water in the middle of a scorching summer day. During iftar, driving around the streets is eerie, not a human in sight, as if everyone had fled. Ramadan is a special month but at the same time very difficult; each day is a fight against temptation. The struggle of fasting, the desire to be closer to a greater being, the faith, the uniting of millions across the world, it personally reminds me of Christmas when for one moment you feel the world is at peace, too busy celebrating to fight.
In Italy there are one million Muslims; many more than I had imagined. They too fast during the month of Ramadan. It must be all the harder to do so in a non-Muslim country where the majority do not fast and temptations are swirling around you. Imagine walking in the heat running errands, you’re thirsty, your mouth and throat get parched, finally a store with cold water, the liberation, the trickling of water down your throat into the rest of your body. Imagine not being able to do that for hours, till sunset! This month when you see a veiled woman, an Arabic man/woman, instead of the first thought being “terrorist, immigrant, osama bin laden,” think a moment longer and admire him/her for their endurance. Today we are surrounded by different languages, different nationalities, different religions, beliefs, traditions, difference being the key word. The only way we can co-exist is to learn about these differences and more importantly to respect them instead of trying to decide who is superior when clearly such a decision depends from whose perspective it is being made… Accept, Do Not Impose!

As far as I can remember, I have always been a convinced supporter of the European Union. Even when this implied, for Italy as for many other countries, the amazing rise of prices following the introduction of the Euro; or when, doing a stage in the Commission, I realized the incredible waste of public money and the astonishing amass of unproductive (and poorly-paid) bureaucracy living in it; despite the constant attempts of France to see and use it as if it is a kind of organic extension of the ‘Hexagone’; regardless of the failure of the referendums for the approval of its painfully-mastodontic Constitution; and even now that, not refraining from acquiring new competencies out of fanciful interpretations of the Treaties’ wording – thought to mean completely different things – suffers of a quite consistent lack of capacity to manage efficiently even those undisputed.

Half Italian and half French, I committed (and still regret) the enormous mistake to think that if I was able to accept all this, there was little that could not be accepted by ‘those others’ European colleagues. Moreover – and most importantly -, if I was able to decline my nationalism in favor of a more ‘mature’ sense of European identity, why people from the rest of the continent shouldn’t do the same? (British obviously excluded).
Such personal vision of things clashed miserably this last week.

After some thirty-hours of fly-stop&jet-lag – plus other four of bumping-jeep and slow-motion-boat away from Manila airport –, I finally reached my destination: dragged out in the middle of the jungle, in a tiny island in the middle of the Philippines Sea, I could now see the resort where two good friends of mine decided to get married. The main characters of this exotic tale are, of course, not autochthones (come on, it would have been way too easy!): the bride is Greek, the groom Danish.

Besides the reasons that brought about a hundred Europeans to assist to a wedding of colleagues on the other side of the world – which could be a good story anyway -, there is something else probably more appropriate to talk about. Let me try to give you the picture.

The crowd that decided to be part of the event was almost equivalent in terms of ‘quantity’. Half of it was Greek, the other half Scandinavian – without considering some irrelevant intrusions such as mine, that one of a Croatian, and an American. What had me impressed first has been that, despite most of them had arrived many days earlier than me (got there just the day before the ‘I do’ part), everything I could see was more about to resemble – say – two different dishes than a modern fusion-pot. Keeping the metaphor, two dishes made of completely different ingredients and out of different cooking. You know, those kinds of platters you really can’t match out of a single meal – ok, maybe now I’m exaggerating a little.
Anyhow, quite soon I also had the chance to understand some of the reasons why this was happening.

By one side, the ‘angels’. Despite not very much into reinvigorating stereotypes, those Scandinavian guys were all indisputably tall, blond, blue-eyed and lovely-smiling, kind of mildly levitating around the intricate jungle-resort. Not the warmest folks, sure say. Easy it was to perceive the delicate though intensive ‘social-scan’ you were put through, before deciding if being conceded of the angelical word.
Perhaps because all ‘coupled’, everyone showed a quite individual attitude. People could get together for dinner time, waterskiing or a small chat, but before and after then everyone managed its own time mostly independently.

By the other side, the Greeks. First, all singles. Then, again not to reinvigorate southern-European stereotypes but how not to notice the constant presence of something to eat or to drink around, in their hands or on the table – any table, anytime. The table, then, the real and main character for almost any kind of activity – from actually eating to organizing anything, relaxing, talking, discussing or just spending time, staying all together (in the Philippines, with around 35 degrees Celsius and 140 per cent of humidity).
But here I hadn’t just ‘Greeks’. I had Cretans – a quite peculiar kind of Greeks, as I had to discover. Fashion-victim and ever-perfect make-up girls, muscular&shaved-bodied guys (and those who were not into the gym-mania were big enough not to need any anyway), this people has been as amazingly warm in welcoming the new arrival (i.e. me) as remarkably fast in closing itself after a formidable barrier: the one and only use of the Greek language. A ‘guilt’ strengthened by the fact that almost every one of them was able to speak good English and those weaker with it were good in Italian or French. Still, no matter the presence of people from other countries (not even the groom, actually), they would always keep on speaking of their own business, in their own language. Some reprimanding-fake-coughing ignored, the sensation of being left aside the conversation started soon, unsurprisingly. Only exceptions? The ground of ‘Greece vs. international clashes’ (what else?). Still, besides – quite obviously – better not to mention the word ‘Macedonia’ with any Greek (which I did, of course, with fairly disastrous results), those Cretan-guys showed me something hard enough to understand. During my short stay I had, in fact, not a few instances of a peculiar kind of Minoan-centrism. Generally speaking, Greek people are usually very proud of their country – with good reasons, of course. Mostly, these reasons are close enough to some of those that allow Italians to be proud of their own country: great history, great minds, great remembers of both. Still, this couldn’t help me not to feel something wrong when one of them – a 27 years old insurance agent – plainly verbalized: ‘I don’t travel that much. This is my first time out of Europe. In the end, my friend, the whole world is coming to Crete, why should I ever leave it?’. Proud support immediately came from another – a lawyer, who got his degree in Italy to come back and exercise the profession in… Heraklio*. I was somewhat daunted. If they were thinking something like that, what was I supposed to think, then? Never to trespass the signal ‘end of Florence’? Forgetting to ever sort out the 8éme arrondissement? Following this ‘Cretan-reasoning’, I was committing a quite consistent offense to myself by leaving my countries, not being satisfied with their rich culture and keep on travelling around the world. ‘My friend’ – the insurance agent unquestionably analyzed – ‘it is evident you have some restlessness and anxiety to heal’.

Back to the nordic side, on the language aspect immediate relief came from the fact that none of the Scandinavians ever dared to talk in Danish or Norwegian in front of somebody that could not understand. Very respectfully, not even between them. With some exceptions, of course.
In fact, here comes a sort of mismatching comparison I would have probably not guessed doing before being at this event. Apparently at least, younger generations of Scandinavians are highly cosmopolitan. They transmit a mature sense of ‘Europeanity’ – the one I feel too, that consideration that there is no alternative solution to the European Union for any of its actual or future members, and that we’re all ‘Europeans’, besides and before our national identity. Nordic-elder-generations, though, showed to be remarkably – and quite embarrassingly – driven by a number of stereotypes at first I believed jokes without taste. Sadly worse, they weren’t. This people are actually still convinced that Southern Europe is a land at best good for tourism. Not enough, for that kind of tourism that resemble more a safari in Africa than a vacation in just another part of the same continent. Prejudices as terrible streets and disgraceful traffic (…), laziness and unproductiveness (!), non-drinkable water (?), diffused misery (?!) or fears for being seized (?!?) plainly flowed out of their mouths (and sometimes you regret having received an education that forces you not to respond in adequate terms to older people). A tough economical-superiority prejudice was evident towards any country not belonging from the hyper-rich&productive ‘north’.
On the Greek side, here comes a ‘reversion of terms’ quite awkward, too. On this front, for instance, while from the elders it was easy to perceive a sense of respect for – say – what has been for more than 30 years the only southern European country with a weight on the world scenario, the young Greeks showed a much more disenchanted vision, using that (terrible) way of speech ‘Italians and Greeks: one face, one race’ just to read it in the way of a nowadays supposed equivalence of the two countries. Towards any non-Greek (or, better, non-Cretan), a slight sense of ‘cultural superiority’ was left mildly rolling on the floor. Sometimes this ’self-sufficiency’ resulted kind of nasty. And actually misplaced. Not few the times in which the terms of reference for the northern colleagues have been not the warmest. Nor the most appropriate.

Of course there were some moments of aggregation. Another Danish-Greek affair even managed to born, actually. Even though, those were definitely too rare sparkles over a quite bleak scenario: the two groups lived their vacations mostly separately, keeping their indifferences, complexes and prejudices throughout the whole stay – and probably more.

Vive l’Union Européenne.

It hasn’t been an easy ride. Damascus has a special place in my heart; the people are warm, the sun rarely disappears, and the history is deep… but like all roses, it has its thorns. The bureaucracy is absurd, the smog is terrible, and freedom of speech is a privilege for other countries… it is what it is. Upon arriving in Italy, I had many expectations. After all, I was coming to live in a developed, open-minded, European country… finally! It’s true that I had visited Italy at least once a year for the past seventeen years, that I was half Italian, that I spoke the language fluently, but somehow I had never absorbed it; I had always been just a visitor. Until now, between Milan and Rome, I have been living in Italy for four and a half years. I have come to learn many things about my country, and I have learned to love and hate it at the same time. Nobody can deny the wonder of Italian cuisine; its fame reaches all corners of the world. And it would be immoral to exclude its role in history, people, architecture; its physiognomy is among the most beautiful in the world. But let’s talk about the bureaucracy- at times I feel that it’s worse than Syria! At least in Syria I can escape the bureaucracy in two ways: first, as a woman, I am given a bit of “special treatment” and second, it is common knowledge that paying a couple of Syrian pounds can help get things done quicker.
Among the various encounters I had with Italian bureaucracy, the worst was renewing my Italian passport, which had expired a few weeks before. The bureaucrats did not want to renew it because I had no other valid ID, so I went to make an ID card. Once there, I was told that they could not give me an ID card because my residence was still in Damascus, despite the fact that I had officially changed my residence to Italy six months before. I had no idea what to do at that point. Back at the passport authority I re-explained the situation and the answer I received was, “I can NOT help you.” At that point I had had enough. I had waited in infinite lines and the people were rude and unwilling to help. How did I get them to do my passport? I shed a few tears. When did I receive the passport? Two months later. If this is the treatment an Italian citizen receives, how are immigrants treated?
Another thing that has left me perplexed is the university system. In the American system, students are taught to respect deadlines, to work under pressure, and to follow rules. Professors are there to teach and help the students. Transparency is important and so is organization. My perplexity arouse while attending Luiss. All final exams are oral but on rare occasions a professor might integrate it with a written exam. One of the first written exams I underwent in Luiss, I remember the professor asking us to write no more than 15 pages. At the end of the exam, I came to discover that some students had written over 20 pages and I figured that they would be “punished” as they had not followed the clear instructions that had been given. However, the opposite occurred – they were awarded. How about oral exams at the end of the semester? I have never understood how grades are attributed, and it seems to me that grades are very much at the discretion of the professor. Coming from a system where exams are graded much more objectively, as each question has an expected answer and set point value, it was hard for me to believe that the grades attributed in the Italian system were fair. Deadlines are not respected either. I fail to see how the Italian university system prepares students with the most basic principles needed in the working world.
The last thing that has left me in great awe is the mentality. Endless talks and conversations have led me to conclude that Italians are not so different from Arabs even though one is considered European, democratic and developed while the other is considered dictatorial and underdeveloped. Of course with regards to freedoms and rights there is no doubt that Arab countries cannot compete, but when it comes down to the way of thinking, how much does one differ from the other? As in Syria, Italians tend to live at home with their parents till an advanced age and great importance is attributed to family. How about the relationship between men and women? In the Arab world it is common that a man prefers for the woman to stay home and raise children, to dress conservatively, and to not go to out excessively without the company of a man. I was shocked when I realized that many of these things are the same in Italy and the more south you go, the more conservative it is, just as in the Middle East the more towards Saudi Arabia you go, the more conservative it gets.
I do not want to put under scrutiny any country, nor do I want to highlight the greatness of another. I believe that there is space for improvement in all countries and it can only come if new generations acknowledge the problems and try to make a difference.
People continuously ask me if I feel more Italian or more Syrian; my answer is that I feel neither completely. It is simple really… people who grow up in one place watch the same cartoons, hear the same stories, track the political situation, know the different dialects; I cannot relate with either Italians or Syrians on many of these aspects. I feel partially Italian, partially Syrian and partially American; I belong nowhere and I belong everywhere. As I try to take the best of many cultures, I hope countries can unite and do the same by learning from each other and taking the best from each other.

A man who has not been in Italy, is always conscious of an inferiority, from his not having seen what it is expected a man should see

Samuel Johnson, the famous 18th Century English poet, essayist, critic, lexicographer and conversationalist as usual hit the nail on the head. Unaware of his maxim but unconsciously taking heed of it, I had the good fortune to visit Italy in Spring 2004 after leaving school, to further my interest in art.

The 6 week “Art History Abroad” Course took us to Venice, Verona, Padua, Mantua, Milan, Perugia, Florence, Rome and Naples and in doing so we were perhaps following in the footsteps of many a wealthy English aristocrat who in Johnson’s day did a Grand Tour accompanied by a private tutor or companion. Our group consisted of 20 Gap Year students and several Cambridge University lecturers.
We had a great time and a huge amount of fun. Besides visiting Museums and Art galleries, Palaces and Piazzas we were provided with pencils & a sketch pad and on one occasion were given the opportunity to do a Life Study of a rather portly naked lady. My rendering did no justice to her graceful curves at all; sadly there was no latent Michelangelo like talent to reveal to the world! In Rome we watched a football match and in each City we visited I taught the group a new Scottish Reel. In Florence at midnight on the Ponte Vecchio my dancing lesson was rather annoyingly curtailed by the Polizia who seemed not to fully appreciate Scottish culture at that hour of the night!

We all left Italy with a wider knowledge of Italian art and wines, numerous impressions and having made hopefully lifelong friendships. In Florence I was fortunate to come across the Opificio delle Pietre Dure Museum in via degli Alfani which has an excellent collection of Pietre Dure or Florentine Mosaics. The skill, patience and beauty expressed in natural hard and semi-precious stones amazed me. In some pieces it was almost impossible to detect whether the work was actually a painting or a mosaic of stones because the shading of the stones was so subtle. On some tabletops there was a trompe d’oeil effect and it looked as if real objects had been placed on the black marble or Egyptian red porphyry surface because they were so realistically depicted with appropriate shading but were in fact a multitude of small stones inlaid into the polished surface. Each piece of stone had been hand cut from a hand saw, 3 or 4 mm thick, slice of stone, then filed and fitted so perfectly to the adjoining stones to leave no sign of any gap between them. I was told that some tabletops would have taken several craftsmen several years to make. What an impression that place made on me! My mind had been opened to a future career.

However, because I had enjoyed carpentry at school and was not destined for an academic or professional career I had already chosen to do a one year practical wood working course. So in September 2004 I went to the Chippendale School of Furniture Making & Restoration 20 miles east of Edinburgh. Here we were taught by craftsmen a number of skills such as making different types of wood joining, veneering, french polishing, but the skill I really enjoyed was marquetry using different coloured woods. On completing the course all I wanted to do was marquetry in stone – “Commesso di Pietre Dure” and thus it was that in September 2005 I was back in Florence looking for a flat to share, a month’s Italian course and of course somebody to train me. After a certain amount of disappointment my prayers were answered at Santa Croce. On leaving the Church I noticed a shop selling Pietre Dure. On enquiry a really kind Maestro, whose work was exhibited in the shop unusually happened to be in at the time of my visit. He offered, in exchange for a small monthly fee, to give me some initial training. After a few months I progressed to a larger workshop run by a charming Florentine family nearby where I didn’t need to pay a fee. A year later I obtained employment with Paci Mosaici another of the leading Florentine Pietre Dure family run workshops. A wonderful feature of Italy that I have noticed, particularly in Florence, is the huge number of small family run artisan businesses that sadly now are so scarce in the UK and how enjoyable it is to be working in such a friendly environment. It is also a super experience learning a craft from really skilled people that has occupied thousands of craftsmen in Florence since the mid 16th Century. Of course the production methods have changed over the years and new technology has been introduced but we need many of the skills that craftsmen developed when the Medici’s were commissioning work from them so many centuries ago. Some of the work we do is restoration and I recently restored a 17th Century Roman Table. I have made a chess board tabletop and mosaic pictures of Tuscan scenes using a huge range of different coloured stones. Our workshop handles virtually anything that can be decorated with stone.

Of course arriving in Italy speaking no Italian has been an experience. Working now alongside Italians for three years and having made numerous Italian friends I am beginning to get a better grasp of the conversation or perhaps I have become better at hiding my incomprehension! Due to a misunderstanding I was once nearly arrested for not having my rail ticket validated on the platform before getting on the train. In the UK this doesn’t happen. Certainly Italy has a well deserved reputation for its official bureaucracy which at times I find maddening but it also has a well deserved reputation for its food and I wish the English were more passionate about their cuisine.

Who knows what the future holds? Perhaps one day I will produce some Pietre Dure masterpieces for the UK where man can see them without being conscious of an inferiority for not having been to Italy. In the meantime I revel in the warmth of the hospitality I am given here.