Before we packed our bags and headed off for Frankfurt last week, we realized the importance of having Jared with us. Jared has taken German since he was in the seventh grade, so it was nice having him on our team. He would be our dipolmat, our communicator, the one who could get us out of potentially sticky situations. When we walked up to our hotel, Jared spoke German to the clerk. Immediatley, she replied in English. She could tell by his accent that he was American. This was a common theme throughout the trip. We would go somewhere and attempt to speak the language, and people would simply respond in English. It seemed like they did not want to waste their time attempting to communicate through a language barrier.
On the other hand, in Rome it seems like no one speaks English. When I go to cafes, pizza shops, or restaurants, if I blurt something out in English, they shoot me a confused or annoyed look. To this day I still do not know if they are mad at me or genuinely lost by my words. They usually follow with a question in Italian, and this usually ends with me giving them the same exact look back. It's a vicious cycle, but I kind of enjoy and look foward the complications as weird as that sounds. Trying to communicate with people who do not understand me is like a puzzle or game; a game I usually lose. Sadly, this may be a game to me, but to the poor Romans it is an exhausting chore.
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