American tourists abroad.
These are some suave folks here in Europe. At least here in Italy. They just seem to be that way naturally. I do get the occasional look—part envious and part exasperated — as though to say, “You must be American.Hmmm. That would explain it.”
I think we are viewed as big, arrogant, slightly clueless rubes who have more money, confidence and power than we deserve or know what to do with. Sort of the same way we in the US view people from Texas.
====
Things I am learning in Italy and want to pass along to friends who may not know.
“The look.”
When someone addresses confidently in a foreign country in their own language, it can be an intimidating situation. They may be paying us a compliment, asking us a general question, trying to find common ground, or casting some sort of insult or warning us we are breaking the law or custom.
When this happens, the best advice is to just smile and give the person the old tried-and-true American survivalist abroad safety “look” that we offer up when someone in a foreign country says something to us and we don’t have a clue what they are saying. You know the one….It’s that look that says:
“I’m really pleased with the attention you are giving me but am confused— as usual. And I don’t speak your language. I am an American and just haven’t had time to learn it. But if I did speak your language I would try to say something now that was appropriate and would please you more or—in the event what you are saying to me has a strong negative connotation—say something to help me to not get arrested in this scary and backward (at least by American standards) foreign country. I do not want to re-live Midnight Express even if I’m not in Turkey right now. Midnight Express could have happened here, too, you know. I just want you to stop saying words to me like I know them when I don’t. It scares me and I don’t trust you that much to begin with and this is only making it worse for me and could even affect how much money I spend on your country’s economy this trip. Don’t get me wrong, I am a nice person and didn’t say bad things about your country after they didn’t join the Coalition of the Willing after 9-11. I really didn’t. ”
Seriously. In fact, I’m a Democrat. I don’t even own a gun. Please just feel both “afraid of me” and “sorry for me” at the same time – OK? Please just think of me as both a “deer-in-the headlights” but also the one deer who could be “king of the jungle.” I know that deer aren’t really kings of the jungle. That’s another animal. Like a Lions or bear. But that doesn’t matter. I’m an American and don’t have to know details like that. Just have to have a certain look at the right times.”Yes, that look! If you’ve ever traveled abroad you know it well…and probably used it daily. Even if you are a republican. (Although some from the GOP do drop 2 of the final 3 sentences and get almost the same response of exasperated pity.
And this well –honed instinctive look is what helps us have both pleasant exchanges abroad and not to relive Midnight Express. The two primary goals of most every American traveling abroad.
If you are in Rome and want to see the Coliseum, be sure you spell it the way they do in Rome. They use this alternative spelling, “Colosseum” Probably on purpose to keep so many people from stampeding the historic amphitheater and taking endless pictures of it. Like this family did.
====
Was a little disappointed to find that pizzas here in Italy are not served with a free banana pepper.
====
Things I am learning in Italy and want to pass along to friends who may not know.
“Prego,” as it turns out, does not mean pregnant.
I’m not sure what it means. I know there used to be a Prego spaghetti sauce but it doesn’t mean “spaghetti sauce” either.
I’m not quiet sure what it means….but know for sure that if someone in Italy says to you
“Prego!” you should not be offended that they are either calling you (or your wife) pregnant or asking you for spaghetti sauce. They are doing neither.
====
It’s no accident that the saying, “Only it Italy!” gets repeated much more often than say, “Only in Sweden.”
Italy earns their reputation daily. Look closely.
And why not? Italians are the most passionate, intense and romantic people of any culture.
Seems fitting to make an ice cream out of what has to be their country’s pharmaceutical drug. For the sake of parity, I believe America should offer Ritalin flavored ice cream.
====
In praise of the integral yet invisible among us.
In every modern society various professions are singled out for being of paramount importance for that society to function and flourish.
Doctors, engineers, teachers, business people, lawyers, journalists and artist quickly come to mind. But they are the easiest to identify and quantify due to the singularity of their professional works.
But what about those in less obvious roles but whose contribution is still every bit as essential —but essential more because of what they facilitate than individually create? They are the glue and the clay; the brick and the mortar of a city–rather than its shiniest piece or highest arching skyscraper or even best paid CEO or most engaging politician. These silent contributors tie together and connect the disparate pieces, people and places of every major city. They do it not because they are special because they make the rest of us more special than we would be alone.
At least that is my pet theory this morning.
The best of this profession of connectors are also great and credible story tellers who see the city like an architect sees a building they designed and built. They not only know how best to navigate their city—but also how to explain and make sense of it.
What profession am I referring to? You’ll laugh when I tell you. Cab drivers.
And I am serious.
Think of it this way, Imagine any great city and then imagine that city its cab drivers. Remove the cab drivers—the connectors who offer both connectedness literally (by navigation) and figuratively (by explaining meaning and context.)
Without these precious resources we daily overlook, we would no longer have what seems like a city at all. Instead, you have merely a constellation of self-directed people –without clear direction (to or from themselves), without a story, a story teller or a sacred place (the cab itself) within which that story gets told.
And you probably already guessed I have spent the morning with a master of his craft in Italy. He is, in fact, the one person —only person, so far–who has made my family and I feel we actually understand and appreciate his great city of Rome. Of course, we had to initiate the conversation. A small price for admission to the full show. And after that, he not only took us to every place we requested (while driving on the wrong side of the road, no less.) But brought his fair and fabulous and fabled city fully to life. And if his city won’t thank him for his integral contribution, I figured maybe I should.
- COMMENT ▼ SHARE ►
Blog this!- Digg this post
- Facebook
- Share on fark
- Print
- Bookmark
- Email
Leave a Reply