So my time in Italy has proved to be full of self discovery and unknown capacities for awe. So many sights and so much beauty. I feel so rich in this experience. Traveling alone has been an adventure in and of itself. Navigation questions are better answered by a pair, money is saved by splitting meals, and one feels less insane if there is actually a person next to you when you point and shout ‘wow, would you look at that?!!” The thing I was most nervous about was feeling lonely. Maybe a grand experience like this is better shared. Well regarding the above mentioned self discovery, I can be indisputably certain that I am officially not ‘a people person’. Not a revelation for most of you reading this, but indulge me as I elaborate on this newly officiated title.
Let me clarify, I do not mean to grossly generalize, it’s just that in general, people are gross. And by people I mean Americans. Oftentimes entire sidewalks are blocked by their glacial advances, leaving me to continuously bob up and down behind them on my toes, short stepping and attempting to pass them in the two inches between shoulder pads and whizzing Vespas. Now I realize they might be oozing along at this lazy rate because, unlike me, they are appropriately dressed and not hurrying for shelter, or because they’re distracted by having to simultaneously walk and talk, another luxury I enjoy by traveling solo. Another strike against my compatriots is their assumed priority and privilege that comes from playing the much practiced role of all -powerful consumer. I ever so judgingly observed two young American females tasting every chocolate at the market before buying less than a dollar’s worth. I would periodically hear exclaims such as “’Allie, omygod so gross, try this one!” and “Dude's getting all mad, what’s his deal?”
I’ve definitely had my own moments of Americanisms, like not bothering to learn one extra word of Italian, perfectly content with my less than convincing “Grat-see” and “Cheeow”. Plus there was that time I put my to-go wine on a street merchant’s shelf to readjust my bags and was accosted with a full on Mussolini-like rage. I smartly informed her that I did not speak Italian, thereby implying could she please translate her insults in English so I can properly carry these emotional scars? As it was I was only getting belligerent gibberish and I wanted to truly understand and incorporate the abuse into my ever stable self esteem. Turns out her shouts translated to, “You not normal! Who put wine on shelf? Not a NORMAL!” Oh but did she know I was American? The normal barometer must be recalibrated to incorporate my heritage. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE America. Probably more now than ever with its ice cubes and variance in beverage sizes, multiple power outlets and clearly marked signage. Plus by staying in hostels I’ve met various non-Americans that have contributed to my anti-other people campaign. I spent one day with a shopping addicted Ukrainian, nodding politely as she tried on $10 bustiers for her upcoming gothic dance party. Then there was the guy from Portugal whom I let knowingly lead us in the wrong direction for over an hour. I did make some suggestions that were all deflected by him once again reminding me that he was PORT-U-GESE, not SPANISH. Right dude; got it…please turn left. My last attempt in making friends was with a Mexican living in Australia, who had the most impressive attention span I’ve ever seen, being able to spend nearly 3 hours in a mask maker’s shop admiring each one. When we finally left, she turned to me and said, “Joo know? I feel a peace here, in my heart’. “Me too” I lied, jealous of her small requirement of masks to give her nirvanic bliss.
So I am actually eager to return to England where mutual animosity is right there in the open, my current relationship included. (**Another discovery: not everything sounds better in a British accent. Turns out “you complain a lot” and “you are being really selfish” sting just as bad.) I have a few more days in this incredible country; let me know if you want any Pope-shaped chocolates or cheeses. I’ll be sure to taste every one to make sure it’s not all gross.
Love to you all!!
P.S.-I’ll try to write soon and walk you through the 10 day silent retreat I just finished-it’ll make you want to buy some duct tape and seat cushions! (for silent meditation, not amateur kidnapping)
Love again and areevuhderchee,
Andrea
