Swimming and... Milk

I'm really sorry about the delay between posts, we're having problems with our internet on the computer. I can still use my iPod to access it, however, so I can still write posts, but they won't include photos. This is setting me back majorly with my posts from Tuscany, and I still have other events I need to write about, such as my day trip to Segesta, and meeting the president of the Sicilian parliament. Please be patient, and as soon as I can I'll start with the posts again.
Yesterday for the first time, I went to the swimming pool here. I live very close to a huge sporting area, starting with private tennis courts, then the public pool, then the soccer stadium, then a track, then a public park. When I first got here, I didn't express much interest in using these, I'd never been big on running, kicking a ball is far beyond my coordination abilities, and when I go swimming I look like I'm drowning. However I soon realised that I needed a bit more physical activity than my flat walk to school offered - it just didn't compete with my daily hike up Rossland, or frequent skiing and hiking I did at home - so I bought a pair of running shoes and go to the park or track a few times a week. I also decided I wanted to give swimming a go as well, and asked my host sister about it. She said it was fairly simple - I needed goggles and a swim cap, which she could lend me, a photo, which I already had thanks to applying for my permesso di soggiorno, and a certificate of health. I don't have a doctor here in Italy so I asked my mom to ask my doctor at home to write one for me. All it really had to say was that I don't have any serious medical conditions that should prevent me from swimming and that I wasn't allergic to chlorine. My mom then sent this over for me, but I didn't get it until almost Christmas, so I didn't get to go before we left for Florence. First week back, though, my sister and I headed over to the pool.
By this time, I understood most Italian when people spoke directly to me, and a little on the slow side, but I was grateful for my sister's help as I wasn't sure exactly how this would work. Unfortunately I would need her for more than just showing me where to go, the pool worker spoke very quietly and hardly opened his mouth to talk - my host sister had to ask him to repeat things. Long story short, though, my English certificate would not be good enough, I would have to get it translated and signed again. This set me back another month, so it wasn't until yesterday that I got to go to the pool.
Evening public swim is only two days per week, and first you need to fill put some forms to get a card that says you are allowed to swim. I goofed up the paperwork a little, but luckily that didn't matter. I paid my entrance fee and headed into the hanging rooms.
I think the best way to describe the changing area of the public pool is "confusing". As I entered, to my left there was a row of personal changing areas, to my right, a door leading to the group changing area. I didn't even see the toilets or showers when I first got there, though I did see quite a few hair dryers. A few people told me it's a little difficult to put on a swim cap when you're by yourself, but you'd be amazed at what you can accomplish when you don't mind looking like an idiot.
On the pool deck, I stood watching the lines of swimmers, trying to detect a pattern. Failing to find one, asked a pool worker, who directed me to any of the first four lanes. The first lane was full of people, many not swimming rounds, and some children with floaty toys. I went to the second. Now, despite having lived on a lake every summer I can remember, and spending hours every day in the water, I have never really been a very strong swimmer. I failed many levels of the red cross swim lessons several times before giving up, and the whip kick has always been completely beyond me. According to my mom, when I was a kid I would swim all the way across the pool in a head down front crawl, because as soon as I lifted my head to breathe, my feet would sink and I would be left trying to right myself. My family will be surprised to learn that I was not, in fact, the slowest swimmer there. I was certainly not the fastest, either, bunt probably got more swimming in than others who spent a grand majority of the time hanging onto the edge of the pool or the lane dividers, talking and generally being in the way.
Anyway I finished my 45 minutes of drowning and went back to the changing rooms, this time managing to find the showers. I tried to dry my hair but gave up after I realised I was trying to use the hair dryers for very short people.
As I'm sure many of you know, trying to swim, but really only trying to not drown, is exhausting. (what? You don't know what that's like? Not everyone is as useless as me when it comes to moving their arms and legs so as to keep the body near the surface and propelled forward? Hunh.) This made for a rather amusing night for my host sitter as I kept trying to help with dinner by trying to set the table, but managing only to put some things on twice and forgetting others completely.
Anyway, there you have it, way too much detail about something you don't really care about.
In other news I bought UHT (long shelf life) whipping cream the other day and it really was not as nice as I hoped it would be. We actually drink UHT milk quite often here - something I never did in Canada. My last experience with UHT milk was rather disappointing. We had it when we were in Honduras volunteering and that was also the time I started eating cereal with plain yogurt (yes, those two events are related). We occasionally have store bought fresh milk, but more often "more day" milk (I think it's been processed a bit more, but it still needs to be kept in the fridge before opening and it goes bad faster), and we nearly always have a few litres of UHT milk in the cupboard. I was a little nervous my first few days here, I thought it wouldn't taste very good. However, it tastes fine, so no worries there. Lately, though, we've had fresh from the farm milk, which tastes very different.
Anyway, enough about milk. I'll try to get back to my Tuscan posts as soon as I can.

Smoking, Food, Cancer and School

As an exchange student, part of why I'm here is to experience a different school system. I'm not going to go into too much detail on the exacts at this point, just because I feel like I don't understand quite enough Italian to make a fair judgement, but I want to talk about how schools effect our health. However, first, I'd like to say I'm learning a lot about the American school system from an American student here and I'm surprised at how different they are. ("So let me get this straight, districts with more rich people get better schools, while poorer districts struggle? But if you do poorly on state tests you get extra funding, right? Oh, I got that backwards? If you do well you get more funding?") (OK clearly I still don't understand the American system in any way. I must be missing some information.)
We had a presentation on breast cancer last week (which I didn't particularly like, but not because I don't want to be educated further on breast cancer) and that got me thinking about health and how schools can effect it. One of the first things I noticed here was that more people smoke. I also saw that you can buy cigarettes from vending machines. At my school in Canada it was illegal to smoke in school property, and BC's smoking age is 19, so cigarettes are far less readily available to young people. As the students can't leave the property during school hours here, anyone who wants to smoke either fills the "little garden" (an area surrounded on all sides by the school), out to the soccer and tennis courts, or outside the front door. Although sometimes when it rains students stand in front of the open windows to the garden and smoke there (ewww).
But what suprises me the most is how ok the teachers seem to be with students smoking. Some do get a little annoyed when someone comes in late, though since professors are frequently late themselves, it doesnt make a ton of difference. During a work period or interrogation, it's normal for students to stand up and request to be able to leave, cigarettes in hand. This seems so strange to me. I can't think of any time a teacher let a student leave during class to go out and smoke. Perhaps I just wasn't paying attention.
Anyway, smoking among young people isn't discouraged as it is at my school, and I find that to be different. However, I do understand the position of schools having no right to force nonsmoking on students.
Secondly, also in relation to health at schools, I want to talk about healthy eating at school. I remember back when we had chocolate, chips, cookies, candy and pop in the vending machines at RSS, until they were replaced with baked pita chips, water, and juice so that students would eat healthier at school (though I challenge the "healthiness" of aspartame sweetened flavoured water, and sugar filled juice, but their hearts were in the right place). A group of volunteers sell fruit, vegetables, sandwiches and other yummy things during lunch hours, with weekly pizza days (again perhaps not the healthiest, but at least there are some nutrients, such as calcium, in there). Now let us compare to what I can buy from the vending machines at school: chips (not baked), chocolate bars, juice, pop, candy, croissants, Nutella doughnuts, some sort of fried sandwiches, paninis, hot dogs, focaccia, and (my personal favourite) French fry sandwiches with mayonnaise and ketchup. I have seen more French fries in my four and a half months here than I think I'd ever seen before, meanwhile North Americans are the so called fast food obsessed (more on that in a later post). At first I found this so freeing. When I was having a sugar craving I didn't have to settle for craisins, I could have a chocolate bar! If I wanted chips, I could have chips! Not those dry pita things! However, I realised that probably wasn't the healthiest thing in the world, and so have since (mostly) stopped buying things at school. And I'll admit it: I miss being able to buy healthy food at school.
I know that by my age, I should be able to decide what to eat, however the lack of choices is a little frustrating. Once again, like with smoking, I can understand that the school doesn't necessarily have the right to dictate what eat, but the push in the right direction was perhaps a good idea.
Perhaps when I understand a little more about the Italian school system I'll write a post about that.