When in Rome, Pretend You're from France

This last long weekend, I went to Rome! It was, well, very Roman, actually. Somehow I kept getting Roman things and Greek things mixed up in my head and would make extremely intelligent statements such as in the following anecdote: while wandering in the Roman ruins with a guide book to tell us what was what, Sariah (who was holding the guide book) pointed up on the hill and said, “That, I think, is the palace of Caesar. Wait, that means this is probably where Pilot washed his hands, and Christ was sent to be crucified!” (FYI, I don’t think Christ made it to Italy. I’m pretty sure that was over in Israel.) I probably fit in the dumb American category, too.

It’s almost embarrassing to say you’re from the US, because you don’t want people to have a pre-conceived image of you, and you don’t want them to treat you as they view “stupid Americans.” After seeing all these tourists everywhere, I can really appreciate that “dumb American” idea. Not that all Americans are dumb, but they are a big amount of tourists in Rome and much of the frustrations the Italians have for tourists transfers to Americans. Example: after leaving the Sistine Chapel, where the mass of people had been told “Silence please!” many times, someone in a group near me asked someone in their group, “Why do we have to be quiet in there?” Their brilliant friend responded, “I don’t know. I think it’s out of respect for the paintings. Maybe out of respect for Michelangelo since he’s dead.” Goodness, I understand being quiet in libraries and museums, but did they not notice the “Chapel” part of the sign? And since when are we quiet while discussing something that was made or invented by someone who is now dead? I think the category they need is “oblivious American,” who are oblivious sometimes out of stupidity and sometimes just because we aren’t from Europe and just don’t know things that Europeans take for granted.

Our outgoing plane (Ryanair is great and cheap) had an Italian flag drawn on its side, and next to that was written in huge letters was: “Scotland. Welcome to our life!”

Please forgive all spelling errors, but for those of you who want an inventory (probably me in a while, too) I saw the: Pantheon, Coliseum, Trevy Fountain (and yes I threw some coins in), Roman Forum (and therefore lots of Roman ruins), Vatican City, St. Peter’s, Sistine Chapel, Vatican Museum (and therefore lots of famous paintings including Raphael’s School of Athens), the Spanish Steps, whatever river that is in Rome, lots of ristorantes and cafes, a choir concert in some church, and many streets of Rome. If you want the history of those, well, you’ll have to look in a guidebook. I saw them, though. I ate gelato six times, I had lasagna twice, I had fettuccini, salad, pizza, calzones, Italian pastries, I drank out of the drinking fountains that are really just fountains along some streets, I pretty much died without Orangina, which I really hope they have in the states since I’m addicted to it in France, and I had a few other desserts. I met some fellow named Donatello and someone named Flavio.

I also had some interesting interactions with various salespeople. The Italians are far friendlier than the French, and more of them speak English, so we weren’t totally lost. Mostly it was funny to see all the street vendor people, who sell things from semi-legitimate souvenirs, to this expansive sort of brotherhood who sells many things but mostly illegal ones. These guys are all black – never any Italians or Caucasians – and they have their funny little way of talking and they all speak English more or less. You can pick them out by their words and body language, calling, “Lady, lady, sista, wait! Listen, you want this? Pretty lady?” And as soon as you start haggling with them over prices they always say “Okay, okay, okay” and they’ll motion to you with their hand to “give” while looking away as if this is a great secret. I’ll have to demonstrate this for you, but it is quite classic and very funny. They’ll tell you in your ear, “Okay, for you I make ten euro!” and there’s always a lot of “Okay, okay, eight euros, but lowest price!” According to my group members, I’m the “goddess at haggling,” but I really think that Grandpa Todd would take the cake with that one. I’m really not that good; I’m just willing to do it. Mostly they sell knock-off purses, sunglasses, etc., but there are some who sold the stupid, stupid stuff that people somehow buy. There was an experience we had with some stupid items and a couple vendors that is probably not quite appropriate (sorry, Quinton children!) to put in here, but if you want the story email me and I’ll see what I can do.

Overall, Rome is very neat and old but also vastly filthy. Hugely, immensely dirty, from literal trash on the roads to a very crude attitude about porn, when I had thought that Paris’ attitude about that was pretty bad. If you ever go, remember that your group is part of your experience (and not the best part of mine) and try to be understanding!

I never thought I’d be so relieved to be back in France. I guess I never realized that I was comfortable here, but compared to Rome, this is very safe because I know it. Being able to speak in French to people there was such an amazing relief, and it was fun to answer the “where you from” question with “Oh, France” even though it’s not strictly true. Somehow we got along in English/French there with pretty much everybody, and I am so, so glad to be back in Paris now, and so excited to see my family soon!!