I spent spring quarter in Padua, a small university town in northern Italy about 20 minutes inland from Venice. Had it not been for the comparative history of ideas program I was participating in, I never would have thought to visit Padua.

During our stay in Italy, we took two classes, one English and the other history.Home of the second oldest university in Italy, Padua is truly a college town. Students congregate every Wednesday night in one of the major squares socializing and drinking.

I’ve never been much of a history buff, but learning about the rise of European intellectualism in the place it actually happened was incredible. We saw the first anatomical theatre, the podium Galileo lectured from and a collection of books on botany that show the evolution of illustrated texts from simplistic sketches to intricate renderings of exotic plants.

Site visits were a regular part of the curriculum; you could often find the 20 or so students in my class racing after our professor, Doug, who moves twice as fast as a normal American and four times as fast as the Italians. I saw more frescoes in Padua than I had even thought existed and learned the history behind each of them. Staring at paintings of saints can get old, but the stories behind how and why these walls and ceilings were painted are always riveting and often scandalous. In one example, the man in the corner of a painting holding the house was the head of an influential family, and the Virgin Mary by his side was modeled after his daughter.

The most prevalent form of transportation in Padua is not scooters or tiny cars — though both are common. Little old men and women, guys in leather jackets who look like the Fonz, and entire families going to the market with fruits and vegetables in their baskets exemplified how everyone in Padua rides bikes. Most of us in the program bought bikes from a group of guys selling them out of the back of a van, and while many people ended up having issues with them, it was an amazing way to see the city.

Italy travelogues tend to romanticize the country, and I can’t say I blame them — it is a lovely place. But when you have to actually deal with day-to-day obligations, it becomes less charming and more exasperating. Trying to pay the deposit on our apartment was quite an ordeal. We could only use a specific bank with one branch, whose hours were from 2:35 p.m. to 4:05 p.m. each day. Yes, they were open for an hour and a half each day, and when three of my friends and I went to transfer our money, we waited in line for that entire time.

If this had happened back home, I’m sure I would have lost my cool and asked to speak with a manager, but in Italy you just get used to shrugging off such things. They are so common that it simply doesn’t make sense to stress over them. After we had finally been helped, we stayed and spoke with the banker, and he joked about how the local university was older than the United States. He wrote down the number 1882 and explained that it was the year the bank had opened. “And in all that time,” he said, “I’ve only helped your group!” We were tired and grumpy but still had to laugh.

Padua is filled with markets where you can buy everything from shoes to strawberries. Unlike the farmers’ markets that come to my Seattle neighborhood once a week, these came nearly every day. It was extraordinary to be able to buy everything needed to cook each night and have such fresh ingredients.

In The Italian Hours, Henry James writes, “That is what I spoke just now of envying — a way of life that doesn’t wince at such refinements of peace and ease.” What I love most about Italy is that it is normal to walk around or sit around and do nothing. To chat with a friend for hours or read a book isn’t considered lazy, it is expected.

The blessing and curse of the country is just that; there is no huge rush to get things done. The young people I spoke to, those with ambition, want to get out of Italy because the country is generally not a merit-based workplace. Success is really about whom you know or are related to.

After my stay in Padua, I traveled for a couple of weeks before hunkering down in Rome for another month and a half. I spent time in Cinque Terre, five lovely Mediterranean seaside towns situated on cliffs amongst olive and lemon trees. This part of my trip really felt like vacation, and I spent most of my time with salt and wine in my hair.

These towns are built with little regard for reality. It seems as if someone asked a builder to create a house on the edge of everything and when told it couldn’t be done, shrugged and said to do it anyway.

After the laid-back atmosphere of Cinqe Terre, the touristy and EuroCup-frenzied nature of Florence was startling. I found the best way to learn to curse in a foreign language is to hang out in a bar watching soccer with a bunch of older men. I began taking notes on the colorful ways these guys insulted their own players.

Florence, though often filled with tourists, has a bohemian quality due to its local crafts, people and eccentrics. I met an adorable older Florentine man who made outrageous shoes in his expansive shop. Even with our limited ability to communicate, we bonded over his shoes and their whimsical qualities. My final month and a half in Italy was spent in Rome with a creative writing program. There is good reason Rome and romance share a root word; the light, the flowers arching over the alleys and the thousands of fountains create an otherworldly quality. I spent most of my time getting lost in the city, confused by the river and enchanted by the small coffee shops I would find while on the verge of collapsing from the heat.

Rome literally never stops. People are in the squares until two or three in the morning when the cleaning crews come out, and when the streets are clean, the markets are set up again. It is impossible to be bored, to walk anywhere without seeing something remarkable and to not be completely engaged with a country like Italy. The country has many problems and crazy politics, but it also has a way of life that is so vivid. Compared with Italy, life back in the states seems rather mundane.

Reach reporter Sarah Greenleaf at features@dailyuw.com.