This study compares learning approaches of local English-speaking students and students from Asian countries studying at an Australian metropolitan university. The sample consists of students across 13 different countries. Unlike previous studies, students from Asian countries are subdivided into two categories: students from Confucian Heritage Cultures (CHC) and students from Asia-based non-Confucian Heritage Cultures (non-CHC). The rich diversity of student background enables meaningful comparison between cultural groups. There are three key findings. Firstly, CHC and non-CHC students are more likely to adopt a deep learning approach than local English-speaking (LES) students. Secondly, CHC students show a strong tendency to simultaneously adopt surface and deep approaches to learning. This tendency also exists with non-CHC students, albeit not as strongly as in the former group. The LES students show the least tendency to adopt this mixed approach.Thirdly, memorisation appears correlated with deep learning across all three groups. The study is exploratory in nature but, if confirmed with larger samples, points to the need for further research beyond the traditional focus on CHC students on the role that memorisation and culture play in learning.

In this article we consider the continuing film history of mass migration into Italy through the story of one such East African migrant, Shandurai (Thandie Newton), as it is represented in Bernardo Bertolucci 's Besieged (1998). In Shandurai we see the mysteries of a Roman extracomunitaria, who cleans the house of a musician, becomes dux of her medical class and falls in love with her employer, while being constantly bombarded by alternatively disturbing and comforting dreams of the beauty and dictatorial corruption of both her East African homeland and her new home. Recent literature addressing people movement within and between Europe and Africa has made much of the notion of ambivalence. In this context, ambivalence covers a range of experiences, largely clustering around personal struggles over freedom and guilt relating to home and family obligations. Considering these ideas of ambivalence in relation to Freud's interest in the topic and the work Julia Kristeva, we establish a similar narrative designed to account for the representation of the looking back and forward migrant subjectivity which sits at the heart of this film. Enduring the migrant's reluctant extrication from trauma, forced redefinition of home and family relations, and reciprocated feelings of hostility, admiration and love towards her hosts, Shandurai performs such a Januslike ambivalence. This cinematic ambivalence, we argue, is central to understanding contemporary migrant experience both in Italy and beyond. 'What do you know about Africa?'Horatio: O day and night, but this is wondrous strange! Hamlet: And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.

This article discusses tensions emerging from conflicting ethnic and national identities in three European Union (EU) member states – Germany, Italy and Spain – through the prism of culinary practices. Food is a marker of cultural identity. In Europe, a wide variety of food practices and culinary cultures co-exist in close proximity, and Europeans thus face the dilemma that confronts all omnivores presented with a breadth of culinary options: while variety can bring the potential for enjoyment, the choice of something new can be perceived as a threat. Within this context, buffeted by the forces of globalisation, migration and supra-national EU regulation, culinary patterns associated with migration strive to come to terms with growing ‘gastronationalism’. This article dissects the differences and similarities in the way this tension manifests in Germany, Italy and Spain.

Sometimes, those visions reach deep into the past (p. 133), sometimes the centralised city and its concomitant imagery inform us about urban spaces (p. 134). The book's very title reminds us of the city's multivalence. Like hip-hop, Calvino's invisible cities are just thatinvisible. And it is this very invisibility that forces the reader (or listener) to rely on other sensesthus making urban history a multisensory experience (p. 149), or one centered in the mind (p. 161). Hip-hop music is also famously informal. Not surprisingly, Venice's spaces are decentralised. This is another way in which the city becomes a perfect hip-hop city. If Le Corbusier designed a programme for (as Psarra notes) 'one of the most sensitive contexts of our time' (p. 177), we need to wonder how one of the most formal architects of the twentieth century did this. Have we been going about studying Le Corbusier in the wrong way? His proposed (but unbuilt) hospital for Venice was designed to change over time. This meant that process rather than aesthetic formalism was paramount. As the author shows, the building also imitated, or was in dialogue with the city, with rooms and hallways mimicking calli and piazze. As we know, hip-hop is controlled by forces present within the culture in which it occurs and the same is true of Le Corbusier's hospital. Like a good album, the book is well designed and appealing. The cover is terrific and the pages are filled with compelling illustrationsmany in colourand many useful maps, charts, and plans by the author. After reading the book, the lasting questions are several. How might we practice architectural history differently? Are there new or different questions we should be asking? Could we, as historians, learn from Venice and be more cooperative and less competitive? Can we riff on other forms of history? Could we avoid formal determinants? Could the historian focus on process rather than authorship or individual buildings? Could the historian study change over time rather than original intent or appearance? Venice was renowned for its minority and immigrant communities. Because of that, we have to wonder if there are lessons in this for other cities. Similarly, Venice encourages writing the senses back into architectural history. The city can be smelly, loud, and tactile. Does architectural history in Venice allow us to explore other cities differently? The book shows us the value of doing diachronic history. We see how useful it is to learn about twentieth-century architecture along with Renaissance spaces. Similarly, we see the value in a truly multidisciplinary history in which Calvino and Le Corbusier are on equal footing. In all of this, we must wonder how history can be more creative and provocative. As Psarra shows, there is a lot we can learn from Venice.

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