"che ci vuoi fare"

I read this article today about the five crucial mistakes expats make in Italy and though I understand the point the author is making, I can't say I agree with her 100%.
I personally don't think there is anything wrong with trying to better the place you live in as a native or an expat- be it your building, your block, your neighborhood, your city, and so on. Actually, more people should start speaking up and taking an active part in bettering the world.
Problems with littering and bad customer service shouldn't just be brushed off as unlovable aspects of Rome, they are things that can be changed! If you see a heathen toss his/her litter on the street, you should say something. You'll probably be told off, but so what? Maybe, just maybe, some of your words might stick and the heathen will think twice before littering - if anything, only out of fear of being publicly shamed again. Any civilized Italian would speak up (yes, I can assure you there are lots of Italians who do!), so I don't see why an expat should feel it's wrong to do so. Same holds true for bad customer service- you should file complaints, write letters/emails when service is shady instead of just thinking "Oh well, I'm in Italy". I for one have written lots of letters to companies and even state agencies, and I have seen some positive results. I've even had companies thank me for my constructive criticism because it helped them build a better business and/or offer better customer service. I can't say it happens all the time, but it's worth 5-10 minutes of my time to try and make a difference.
So does this make me an expat who's not well-adjusted? I don't think so... if anything, it makes me a good "Roman" who is trying to better the place she has chosen to live in. Italy, and more specifically Rome, is stagnating because too many people have been chanting that passive Italian mantra "che ci vuoi fare" for far too long. It's much easier to say that than to actually find viable ways to help improve your surroundings. If we were all to adapt that "you’re not going to change Italy" attitude, organizations like Retake Rome would never exist. Expat Rebecca Spitzmiller would've just said "Oh well, Rome is dirty, I can't change it"... but she can and she is!

So while I do realize there are limits as to what we expats can do in our adopted cities, I think it is important for us to maintain our civic-mindedness and to do what we can to better Rome without being accused of being idealistic foreigners.

Ignorance

I just witnessed a hideous display of ignorance and racism while riding on a bus in central Rome, one of the most disturbing I've seen in a while.

I head toward the exit doors as the bus nears my stop and notice a large, young Roman guy (a mix between a coatto & hooligan) who is close-talking with an older Filipino man. At first, I didn't pay attention to the words being exchanged because I assumed they were together based on how close the coatto was to the man's face, but when I actually tuned in I heard this: "You think you have the right to pass ahead of me. This is my country, you should keep your head bowed and shut up. How arrogant of you to think you can ask me to step aside, this isn't your country. You expect me to step aside for you, you immigrant. This is my country, go home..." and on and on. My first reaction, once I processed what he was saying, was to butt in and tell the racist asshole to knock it off BUT I quickly bit my tongue because I couldn't help but think: "What if this crazy mofo punches me in the face?". I have a tendency to mouth off in this city but there are times when it's crystal clear that the person on the receiving end is highly unstable and could possibly hurt me. So I stood there, staring at him with disgust in my eyes hoping he would notice but he was too focused on insulting, humiliating, and belittling a totally innocent man who just happened to be foreign. It was so immensely frustrating and upsetting to just stand there, impotent, not being able to say a word- I can only image how much worse it felt for the man who was being verbally attacked but he too, did not say a word and just tried to avert his eyes. I'm sure he also realized that this asshole was a loose cannon and things could get ugly really fast. My blood was boiling, my body was actually shaking from having to witness this hideous scene and not be able to intervene. The only thing I could do, once we got off the bus, was to say to the Filipino man: "Forget about him, he was just an ignorant jerk", in hopes of making him feel less alone.

It's really frightening and disturbing to see how young people think it's okay to treat someone like this IN public, this asshole clearly thought he was speaking for everyone else and that everyone agreed with him. If a group of people had confronted him and had told him to stop, he would've been forced to shut up. People need to gather together and stand up to ignorant racists and bullies, this kind of behavior should not be tolerated in public.

If only I'd had a Taser on me...

Passive mumblers & grumblers

When I hopped on the bus the other day, every seat was taken but one, and even though there were people standing in the aisle (including elderly people who usually bum-rush all and any available seat), nobody attempted to claim it. I waited a few minutes, trying to figure what could possibly be wrong with that seat: Was there some sort of filth on it? Did the person in the neighboring seat smell? Nope and nope, so I went for it. As I was climbing over the lady in the neighboring seat she said to me: "You'll freeze in that seat, the AC vent is directly over it". I smiled back and said: "Not a problem for me, I love AC!" She looked at me as if I were crazy and then let me through. Thanks to the silly Italians and their delicate internal thermostats, I scored me a seat on a long bus ride. And between you & me, it was not freezing at all, it was rather pleasant and refreshing (and I was only wearing a T-shirt!) because it was hot out.
The Italians kept mumbling and grumbling about how cold it was, people with seats under the AC vents kept getting up and standing in the aisle instead. The bus was abuzz with complaints YET nobody did what I would consider the most logical thing to do in a situation like that: Ask the driver to lower or shut off the AC.
I sat back and watched with amusement as people got bent out of shape, complained out loud and to each other with such fervor. Then suddenly, a foreign woman who was wearing a turtleneck and sweater (hence, was obviously enjoying the AC) suggested these whiners go ask the driver to shut off the AC, since 95% of the people were complaining. One brave soul finally got up the nerve and did it. Lo and behold- the driver shut off the AC! Cue: collective sigh of relief from the Italians.

I can't understand why, for the most part, Italians are so passive. If something is bothering you (and a majority of people) WHY NOT take action to improve the situation, especially when it could be so easily improved? Why just sit there and complain?

In all my years here, I've noticed that Italians are Olympic gold medalists at complaining (loudly, rowdily, individually, or in groups) but rarely do they actually voice their beef with someone in charge or even take the simple steps necessary to resolve the situation. WHY IS THAT? Is there some cultural hang-up about being proactive or confrontational? Is it considered inappropriate to speak up? I've noticed this in old & young alike, even some of my friends have this tendency. It seems ridiculous to me, why bother using so much energy to complain instead of simply using that same energy to fix what's wrong? I'm not saying people have to be aggressive and demanding, I'm just saying that 90% of the time, situations like the one I just mentioned could be easily resolved by speaking up. It blows my mind to be surrounded by a nation of people who will stew in their indignation, will get worked up about it, but are too passive to speak up or stand up to make a real change.

Italian (lack of) tact

I'm sure I've touched on this topic before, but I was smacked upside the head by it the other day and feel the need to share it with you all.

I had been working from home on the translation of a very difficult Italian documentary, I miraculously and stylishly (yes, I'm allowed to pat myself on the back now and again) finished it and sent it to the office. The next day the director calls me to thank me- wowsers! She was immensely grateful because she herself understood how complex the topic was and how tricky it was to condense it all into fluid subtitles. She and I had a friendly chat and she said she hoped we could work together again. Great!

A few days ago, I was at the dreaded Tiburtina office (not because I dislike the office itself, I just despise the commute) and lo and behold, said director is there. She had some adjustments to make to the documentary so they call me in. I introduce myself and she looks at me with total shock on her face and says: "You're ___? But you're just a ragazzina, I thought you were much older".
BOOM, how's that for class and tact?! Really, lady? Do you have no control over what comes out of your mouth? You really think that's an appropriate thing to say in a professional setting? Plus, if homegirl had been 80 years old, I might be able to understand her shock, but at most she was in her 50s… and since I'm in my mid 30s, I'm not really sure what the big deal is.
I politely smiled and said: "Well, looks can be deceiving. I am older than I look" (and mind you, that day I just happened to be dressed more "formally"- which means I wasn't wearing a t-shirt and jeans so I looked a bit more adult-like) to which, Miss Tact replied: "But still, I never imagined you would be a ragazzina" and carried on mumbling and bumbling, almost horrified by this discovery.
I just found it so rude, inappropriate, and unnecessary for her to make a huge verbal ordeal about my age and what she thought it should/would be. So in her mind, in order to be professional or capable, one has to be an octogenarian?
Not to mention it's downright wrong to address physical appearances at all in a work setting. If I had rolled up in a wheelchair would she have said: "Oh, from your voice it didn't sound like you were in a wheelchair". If I were fat would she have said: "Oh, I never imagined you'd be so fat"... I think you get my point, making comments of this sort is flat-out stupid. Not to get all gung-ho American on you, but it's something I've encountered many times in Italy. That's not to say coworkers don't comment on my age in the States, they do and they have BUT never upon first meeting me! If they do mention it, it happens after we get to know each other or after we've been working together for a while. I find Italians to be seriously lacking in basic workplace etiquette. In the US, you never know who you're dealing with so you tend to watch your words. You don't know if you're standing face to face with the next creator of Google or Facebook, or some genius graphic designer, or some musical prodigy, or some billionaire so you avoid dumb-ass assumptions and generalizations in the workplace. While Italians tend to be very judgemental and very image-biased in the workplace. It's a country where the way you look seems to be more important than what you're actually capable of. Maybe this explains why the country is stagnating instead of progressing....

Clash

It was bound to happen... after precisely 13 days back in Rome I had my first official clash with the locals, or rather a local.

I walk into a bar (sounds like the intro to a bad joke) and order a coffee. Myself and an older woman are at the counter while a family of four, clearly Americans, sits at a table in the corner. The barista is going off on a tirade about how he's sick of these tourists, how they expect everyone to speak their language, how arrogant and rude they are, blah blah blah. Mind you, all of this is being shouted out loud as he prepares my coffee. It's clear that he's bitching about the American family sitting cluelessly in the corner, not knowing they've set him off on this tirade. They're probably thinking "Oh look how passionate these Italians are, how lively their conversations are". Bless their oblivious souls...
The barista keeps going on and on about how foreigners come here thinking they rule the place and if they want service from people who speak 6 languages, then they should go stay at the Grand Hotel. All the while making eye contact with me as if to gain my support (the older woman practically had her head in her cappuccino... wise woman). THEN he goes so far as to say "We Italians know how to adapt when we travel", at that point I could not help but start snickering. I looked straight at him and said "You have got to be kidding?!".
I know, I know, I shouldn't have done it. I tried to resist as long as I could, but enough's enough. I just wanted a fucking coffee but I got stuck listening to a load of bullshit. Thus, a heated yet very polite discussion began. I suggested that perhaps it wasn't the tourists' fault they don't speak the language, it's common to visit a country whose language you don't know and you have to try to get by on the languages you do know (i.e., your own), I also reminded him that Italy, and Rome especially, thrive on tourists and their money so it's in their own interest to treat visitors well. For the record, I was not defending all American tourists because I know firsthand, from working in the tourism industry, how obnoxious they can be but to go as far as generalizing that ALL Italians are great tourists and know how to adapt is just flat out ridiculous. Our discussion took a turn for the worse when I assured him that Italians are not perfect tourists when abroad (between you and me, I have traveled the globe and have seen some hideous Italian tourists. I'm just sayin' is all...) so he should be a little more understanding. Then I got the classic lame comeback: "How dare you come to MY country and insult MY people"... Again, I just snickered and said "I too am one of your people because I am Italian, I've lived here for over 10 years, and I pay taxes here. I'm not insulting anyone (unlike him, calling Americans ignorant, rude, arrogant, etc.) I'm just making an observation based on my experiences."
Buddy, next time don't let your mouth write checks your ass can't cash. If you're going to publicly bitch and moan at the top of your voice about something in front of your customers, then don't be surprised or annoyed when they actually chime in. Keep it to yourself if you're not willing to hear or accept other viewpoints. The discussion ended with us agreeing to disagree and me thinking "Now I can't go back to that bar ever again". Damn, what a pity, I really liked their pastries...

hugs vs. kisses

I don't know about you all, but I still prefer a good ol' American hug to the Italian-style cheek kissing.

Birthdays and bubbly

Despite the fact that I've been in Italy for over a decade (gasp!) there are still some things that surprise me... like birthday routines. Last week my presence was required in the office for a few days. After lunch, the cleaning lady busted out a gigantic birthday cake... for HERSELF. No, I don't mean she brought the cake only for herself, I mean she brought her own birthday cake to work. I found it so odd that the birthday girl would provide the cake as opposed to the office providing it for her. But then I recalled a friend doing the same thing: inviting people out to dinner for her birthday and footing the bill herself (I was the only one who tried to object, I was obviously outnumbered). So very strange to me...

As for the bubbly, while we were all eating this very delicious cake for the cleaning lady's birthday, she also busted out four bottles of prosecco and started pouring a glass for everyone. I politely declined and was met with stares and that question: "Sei astemia*?"
"No I'm not, but drinking a glass of prosecco at lunchtime while Giuseppe Tornatore is next door ready to review my translation with me does not seem like the brightest of ideas, thank you very much!"
This got me thinking about how normal it is for Italians to comment on one's drinking or lack of. I have several AA friends so I find it somewhat rude to ask someone why they opt not to drink. Once at dinner here in Rome with an American AA friend, the waiter kept trying to pour him a glass of wine and I kept saying no, the waiter rudely insisted numerous times so I finally said "No, lui e' astemio (No, he doesn't drink)" and the waiter commented "Non ha la faccia di uno che e' astemio (He doesn't look like someone who doesn't drink)". I could not believe a waiter, let alone ANY person, would have the gall to make a comment like that. I was so taken aback, I couldn't even respond. Total lack of sensitivity in this country toward people who chose not to drink for whatever reason.


*astemio/astemia- sober, abstemious, someone who doesn't drink alcohol

So wrong

I'm sure most of you have heard about the new Italian law which would oblige doctors/nurses to contact the authorities if they suspect the patient they're treating does not have a valid visa or work permit. It's wrong on so many levels that I can't even begin to put it into words. So instead I'll illustrate it through a story about a recent incident I had the misfortune of witnessing:
As I was walking in my 'hood, I passed by a beggar who's always on the corner of Viale Trastevere- I noticed there was a pool of blood beneath him and he was wiping away even more blood from his face. I don't think I've ever seen this much blood before in my life. A group of people were standing around him talking amongst themselves. "What the fuck is going on? Why isn't anyone doing anything?" was my first reaction, and naturally I stepped into the group of people to inquire. Apparently, two other homeless beggars had come by and bashed this beggar's nose in... and then just walked away. I started to get riled up asking if anyone had called the cops or called a medic from the hospital two steps away, but nobody had. Why not? Not because they didn't give a shit, but because they had no idea what this beggar's situation was. If he was an illegal immigrant, by calling the cops or doctors (who are now being forced to act as immigration cops) they would've basically been signing this guy's deportation papers. So rather than be responsible for getting him into trouble over his visa or lack of, everyone opted to stay silent and just stand around and stare. I was tempted to go call for help but realized that these people were right... And that, my friends, is one example of why this law is so wrong.

The great cheddar hunt

Yeah, I like cheddar. You got a problem with that? Since I got back from US, I've been jonesing for cheddar. Don't get me wrong, there are loads of Italian cheeses I adore but sometimes I want me some cheddar. And so began the great cheddar hunt. This weekend I spied a few neighborhood eateries that used cheddar in their dishes, after inquiring they reluctantly yet kindly offered to sell me a chunk of their orange goodness but I still wanted to find a place where I could buy my own whenever I felt the urge.
At the suggestion of a friend, I checked out the deli of all delis- FRANCHI (they do catering too, their website focuses mainly on that). I'd been there a million times but never thought to look for cheddar--- and guess what? They actually had it: sage flavored cheddar (it's green, kind of creeps me out), whiskey cheddar, and good ol' regular orange cheddar all imported from the UK. Joy! Happiness! Cheesy smile! I have found my cheddar dealer!
Franchi
Via Cola di Rienzo, 200 (Prati)

2016 update: just discovered another shop that sells both British and American cheddar!
La Tradizione
Via Cipro, 8/e

Di dove sei?

Contrary to what I'd like to think, I do have an accent when I speak Italian. Mind you, I certainly do not sound like Dan Peterson, but I admit that at times an American twang can be heard... My accent or lack of, usually depends on my mood: if I'm tired, stressed, or overworked, my Italian and my Italian accent suffer. And naturally, if I have to speak about topics I lack vocabulary for (ex: explaining to the washing machine repairman what's wrong with my machine), then you can really tell I'm not from around here!

But in my defense, there have been many occasions where I've been involved in conversations with Italians who did not realize I was American until someone revealed it or until I said a word like "computer" and blew my cover. When I have American friends visiting, I usually act as interpreter between them and the locals, who often ask: "How did you learn to speak English so well?" Oh the joy....

I'd say my Italian has a definite Roman inflection* (as does my vocabulary), after all, this is the place where I officially learned Italian and became fluent. Side note: Italians and Romans get a kick out of hearing an American speaking Roman, let me tell you!

But on those days when my Italian is debilitated, you can bet your money I'll hear this: "Di dove sei? Non sei di qua?". Argh! I find it odd that in such a big city, the locals are still so amazed by the fact that foreigners live amongst them. Yeah, I know they ask out of curiosity and to strike up a conversation, but sometimes it's just downright annoying to have someone point out your accent, especially when I am well aware and self-conscious about the fact that I'm speaking shitty Italian. Would a random stranger in a store in NYC say: "You have an odd accent when you speak English, where are you from?". I've never seen it happen... If anything, that question comes up once you get to know the person and are learning more about them.

Yep, it's a little pet peeve of mine, along with being called "ragazzina" (little girl). Hello!? I'm 30-something and I still get called "ragazzina" in this country. In some ways, it's nice but at times it can be an obstacle. Picture this, I have a meeting with someone for work and the secretary calls up to the boss and says: "C'è una ragazzina qua per te" (There's a little girl here to see you).... Uhh, that doesn't exactly work in my favor now does it?

*Oddly enough, when I first moved to Italy, people kept asking me if I was "Sarda", I'd yet to learn that word for "a female from Sardinia" (at the time I assumed that word would've been "Sardiniana") so I thought they were asking if I was deaf (sorda). I've never set foot on the island of Sardegna but maybe I should!

Calgon, take me away!

This morning I had another lovely run-in with the public healthcare system... It's so frustrating it exhausts me, for real. 

I've been trying to see my general practitioner for a week. Come summertime, he always mysteriously changes his office hours and unless you actually go to the office, manage to get buzzed into the building by someone else (because he's hardly ever there), and read the signs posted on the office door- you have no way of knowing what the new hours are. I finally managed to get there at the right time and on the right day, only to discover my doctor was... ON vacation. 

Fortunately there was a substitute doctor, but unfortunately this guy is a quack. I've had the misfortune of dealing with him before and he's incompetent. Apparently I'm not the only one who thinks so because when the 15 people sitting in the waiting room with me (I was third in line, hooray!) found out he was on duty, there was plenty of grumbling.

I show the quack doctor this skin condition that I've had on my fingertips for over a month now. He's flippant and dismissive as always, and says it's nothing. I insist that I'd like to see a dermatologist because my fingertips are bothering me. He says that if I go to Regina Margherita's Guardia Medica, they'll see me without a referral right then and there. Now, I've been around long enough to know that you should always be prepared for the worst when dealing with the public healthcare system, so I politely insist he write out a referral for a dermatological visit, just in case. He does. I leave.

I go to the Guardia Medica at Regina Margherita (like he told me to) and the woman at the desk asks for my referral (See??). She tells me I must first go around the block to the CUP office to pay for the visit, and then come back and go to the dermatology ward on the first floor. I go to the CUP and get a number and wait in line. I wait 15 minutes for my turn, show the lady my referral (without a referral I would've been screwed again) and try to pay for it. She snaps at me and says I need to go back around the block, go up to dermatology and ask if they can see me today. I explain to her that the woman at Guardia Medica said I could just come here and pay. She keeps yelling at me. I refuse to stoop to her level and calmly try to reason with her. Hold on, can't I just pay in the meantime? I'll either been seen today or tomorrow, what's the difference? No such thing and she continues to mutter shit under her breath.

Breathe in breathe out, go back around the block and up to the first floor of the dermatology ward. A lovely nurse assists me and tells me to go back to the CUP and pay for the visit ("If she gives you trouble, tell her Sergio said it's okay"), then come back up and wait my turn. 

Okay, I go back around the block to the CUP, get a fucking number and wait 20 minutes. Pay for the visit (20 euros. Public health care is NOT free) and go back to the dermatology ward. I wait for about 40 minutes for the visit- which was fine by me since they took me at the last minute anyway. And surprisingly enough there was AC in the waiting room.

My turn, the dermatologist barely looks at my hands or listens to me, she's too busy yapping it up with her friend about what she'll be cooking for dinner. She writes out a prescription before I even finish explaining the situation with my fingertips. I politely yet firmly grab her attention and explain my case. She nods her head and slips me the prescription she had already written out and signed and says "It's just some dry skin. You must've touched something that irritated it." No, no, no- I just explained to you that nothing in my routine has changed and my fingertips have been all wrinkled, dry, and painful for almost two months. It's useless, she sends me away with the damn prescription.

I try to stay positive and go to the pharmacy to get said medication. What do I discover? The "medicine" she prescribed is not medicine at all. It costs 23 euro and is nothing but fancy hand cream (which contains the same exact ingredients as the hand cream I regularly use). Fuck it. I decide not to buy it and at this point, I'm going to make an appointment with a private dermatologist and see if I can sort this out. 

Now, I just wasted 3 hours and 20 euros for nothing. And to top it all off, I'm going to have to fork out my own money for a private doctor because the public system sucks.

Hotdogs?

Whenever I see these "Wudy" hotdogs in grocery stores or on TV, I can't help but chuckle. Maybe it's the Beavis & Butt-head in me...

The great AC debate

The following is based on real life scenarios that took place at the office the other day:

English co-worker arrives at work drenched in sweat because, thanks to the sciopero, he had to walk to work and was wearing a black synthetic shirt. Female Italian co-worker walks into our office (which is the coldest room in the entire place because we're foreigners and we like AC) and says to him: You'd better shut off the AC immediately or go outside and wait until you dry off or you'll catch your death!

He and I exchange glances and chuckle saying "No, don't worry, we're foreign... we're immune to AC induced illnesses".

Later that day I walk into the secretary's windowless office and it literally feels like a sauna. I look at the AC unit and it's off so I ask why. Her reply: "Yesterday after leaving work my stomach didn't feel well from all the AC, so I decided I'd rather not use it anymore". 

Uh, ok...

The perks of living in Italy

Bet you never thought I'd type out those words!

Despite my bitching & moaning, there are lots of things I do like about living in Italy. One of them is the fact that I'm a foreigner. Yep, being straniera comes with many many perks, my friends. Perks that I became aware of only after I'd settled here and been living here for a few years. Such as:

1) I can wear whatever the fuck I want.
When I starting sporting my red birkis outside of the house, I was getting some intense stares. Not "Those are so cute where'd you get them?" stares. More like "Are you on crack going outside with red plastic clogs on?". Though I do notice the stares, I couldn't care less. I've always been rather immune to these things all my life. The funny thing is, some of my Italian friends justify my quirky choices by saying "Well, you know... she's American" as if that gives me the freedom to walk around wearing a garbage bag if I wanted to. For the record, I also sport Dansko clogs and know they aren't particularly pretty but they're ridiculously comfy- so who cares!
A few years back I was working more or less full time for a subtitling company in their office. I'm allergic to suits and dress-up clothes, so I wore what I'd normally wear: jeans, T-shirts, etc. Not sloppy, but definitely not business attire. I can safely say I was the most under-dressed person there. One day I get a call from the boss lady asking me to come in the next day for a meeting with a BIG client she was trying to snag. I normally didn't deal with securing clients but I agreed to attend. Before she hung up she said "Careful about what you wear tomorrow". I automatically thought- Hell no, I'm not getting dressed up to do something that's not even my duty. But before I had a chance to protest she went on to say "Make sure you dress like you always do, all American with your weird T-shirts and sneakers". Whatchutalkinboutwillis? Apparently she wanted to assure these big clients that she had a real, live American working for her who would translate their films into perfect American English. So not only did I not have to dress up, I was begged to come to work in casual gear- right on!

2) I can say whatever the fuck I want
This perk comes into action once you're fluent. If you're still fumbling with the language, you might not fully enjoy the power of this one. I get away with murder- I can say just about anything to anybody. I'm well aware that I don't have this impunity in my homeland, in fact I rarely (almost never) mouth off to people in NYC because I know better. Here in Italy though, I mouth off with no fear. At times people will snap back, but no bodily harm is inflicted. And lots of times they merely shrug it off saying "Oh well, she's American".
Same holds true in the workplace. Being straniera gives me the liberty to say stuff I probably wouldn't in the American workplace- I protest, complain, curse, criticize their procedures and they actually seem to LOVE it. One of my "employers" (I'm freelance so he's not really my boss), after witnessing one of my tirades, decided it would be beneficial for him to sit down and have occasional meetings with me to pick my brain and get my input on how he can tighten up his business. And I give it to him--- straight up.

3) I can do whatever the fuck I want
Many years ago, when I was the first female to step foot in a testosterone-filled raunchy kickboxing gym, they all stared at me with hostility as if I were an intruder. Once they realized I was American, they were more willing to accept me as one of "the boys". I got a glimpse of that hostile stare again when I showed up at the gym wearing flip flops in the summer... Mind you, this was before flip flops were trendy & acceptable as outside footwear in any place other than the beach in Italy. After they all harassed and mocked me for about 20 minutes, they brushed it off with the usual "that crazy American girl!" and all was well.

4) I'm always "interesting"
Even if I'm feeling sluggish and anti-social at an event, I'm automatically considered "interesting" because I'm a foreigner. It's pretty sweet, I must admit. I can utter 2 words and people will be fascinated with me because I'm a foreigner who's lived in Rome for so long. This also has a downside though- being bombarded with the same ol' questions about America, about why I'm in Italy and what I think of it, even if I'm not in the mood to play that game.

For the most part, being foreign here is fun, for me at least. I know several expats who ended up leaving Rome because they were tired of not fitting in, tired of being seen as an outsider, tired of being foreign... But that doesn't bother me much, maybe because I've always been a bit of an outsider by choice.

There is another side to the coin, of course. There are some VERY annoying disadvantages that come with being a foreigner here too. I'll get into that next time.