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.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Weather
Just last week, I was complaining about how the rain and cool weather was growing tiresome. I whined that I could not meander around the city without getting soaked and that Rome was not supposed to have this climate. However, a week later I am longing for that brisk weather. This proves the old adage, you always want what you can't have. I guess I was idealistically hoping for a pleasurable balance. Sunny days with a a few clouds and a slight breeze. Those perfect days where you can walk around for hours without feeling the least bit uncomfortable because of the gentle wind. Sadly, I think the days of the cozy spring days are long gone.
I am a firm believer that excessive heat is blessed with the ability to drive people insane. People become confrontational, irritable, edgy, and petulant. For years I have witnessed this craziness as a caddy in Philadelphia. On the hot and humid days, generally nice guys complain for hours about slow play, get upset over pretty good shots, and even throw clubs. I truly feel that this primal behavior stems from people tiring of the scorching ball of fire the looms from above in the summer. Without air condition in our apartment or at school, I am scared that I may slip into a state of senility as the summer progresses. I have always had the luxury of air condition at home, so this next month without it may be the biggest culture shock that I will face on this trip.
I am a firm believer that excessive heat is blessed with the ability to drive people insane. People become confrontational, irritable, edgy, and petulant. For years I have witnessed this craziness as a caddy in Philadelphia. On the hot and humid days, generally nice guys complain for hours about slow play, get upset over pretty good shots, and even throw clubs. I truly feel that this primal behavior stems from people tiring of the scorching ball of fire the looms from above in the summer. Without air condition in our apartment or at school, I am scared that I may slip into a state of senility as the summer progresses. I have always had the luxury of air condition at home, so this next month without it may be the biggest culture shock that I will face on this trip.
Street Walking
When I first arrived in Rome, crossing streets was quite the ordeal. I was certain that at some point a car would hit me; I just prayed that it would not be too bad. The streets are jam-packed with cars like an American city, the only difference is that in Rome there are no apparent rules for driving. This is especially true for the Vespas. As cars are stopped at a red light, the bikers shoot past them and lead the pack of automobiles. When the little walking man flashes green, it is your turn to walk on the crosswalk. At first, I would jump up out of fear everytime while crossing because a Vespa would speed up right where I was walking, always halting in the nick of time.
Initially, I would look at them in shock thinking that they were erratic drivers who despised pedestrians. Through their facial expressions, they would tell me that these roads are meant for driving. As the weeks have progressed, I have become accustomed to the daily chaos in the streets. Now when the motorcycles zip close to me, I am undaunted by them and barely even flinch. Instead of waiting for the green walk man at crosswalks, I have become like the Romans who just bolt out whenever they feel like crossing. Their motto: the cars will stop for us. It is liberating to not fear being hit, but it is also a little troublesome. With one false move, there is a decent chance that my confidence will fail me and it could end horribly. This proves that being confident is not always a good thing.
Initially, I would look at them in shock thinking that they were erratic drivers who despised pedestrians. Through their facial expressions, they would tell me that these roads are meant for driving. As the weeks have progressed, I have become accustomed to the daily chaos in the streets. Now when the motorcycles zip close to me, I am undaunted by them and barely even flinch. Instead of waiting for the green walk man at crosswalks, I have become like the Romans who just bolt out whenever they feel like crossing. Their motto: the cars will stop for us. It is liberating to not fear being hit, but it is also a little troublesome. With one false move, there is a decent chance that my confidence will fail me and it could end horribly. This proves that being confident is not always a good thing.
Aira Condizionata
Compared to last week, which was unseasonably cool and rainy, this weather feels like a hot August day back in Philadelphia. Tuesday was by far the worst. We had a long walk to a few churches yesterday, and by the end of our trek my shirt was soaked and sweat was dripping down my face and back. I was craving a nice long shower to cool me down, but sadly we had more class in the afternoon. Our classroom is right next to some very busy streets, so in order to hear everyone we have to close the windows. It obviously gets even hotter and more uncomfortable. I am scared to see what this classroom will be like by the end of the summer.
While walking home, I walked by Gi-Ma and for the first time I noticed that all the doors were closed at this hour. Curious about this, I walked up to the door and noticed in small red and white print on the glass doors, "Aira Condizionata." Ah, air condition; something that is even better than the cold showers at our apartment. Our showers often feel more like sleet attacking your back than something soothing, so I decided to go in for a minute and cool down. This was around 5 PM, and this was the highest volume of people that I have ever seen in Gi-Ma. To go along with this, for the first time almost everyone was willing to pay a little extra to sit down at the tables while enjoying the artificial coolness. Businessmen in suits were eating paninis and drinking water while fanning themselves. Little kids were running around being little kids. Some couples were sitting at a table just conversing about their respective days over a cafe latte. Everyone was just trying to forget the excessive heat from earlier and relax in a nice, cool place. This was the first truly hot day of the summer, so I am sure that the Romans even need some time to adjust to the intense warmth.
While walking home, I walked by Gi-Ma and for the first time I noticed that all the doors were closed at this hour. Curious about this, I walked up to the door and noticed in small red and white print on the glass doors, "Aira Condizionata." Ah, air condition; something that is even better than the cold showers at our apartment. Our showers often feel more like sleet attacking your back than something soothing, so I decided to go in for a minute and cool down. This was around 5 PM, and this was the highest volume of people that I have ever seen in Gi-Ma. To go along with this, for the first time almost everyone was willing to pay a little extra to sit down at the tables while enjoying the artificial coolness. Businessmen in suits were eating paninis and drinking water while fanning themselves. Little kids were running around being little kids. Some couples were sitting at a table just conversing about their respective days over a cafe latte. Everyone was just trying to forget the excessive heat from earlier and relax in a nice, cool place. This was the first truly hot day of the summer, so I am sure that the Romans even need some time to adjust to the intense warmth.
What a fool I am
I have a theory about the Italian restaurants cafes. If it is packed with Americans, stay away. If it is packed with Romans, you stumbled upon a hidden gem. Luckily, right around the corner from our school is Remo's Pizzeria, a small little store that is nothing special to look at. The same man (is it Remo?!) works behind the counter every day, and each day he concocts a different yet equally delicous kind of pizza. Some of the the slices are rather exotic for the typcial American. For example, one that he makes often features eggs, prosciutto, and a paprika-like condiment sprinkled on top of the mozzerella.
Instead of paying by the slice, you tell him how big of a piece you want, usually via hand signals, then he weighs it and tells yow how much you owe. I thought I had this method down to a science, but yesterday I severely botched the order and embarrassed myself in front of my favorite pizza chef. I only had one euro in my pocket but was hungry, so I ask for one euro worth of the cheese pizza. Subconsciously, my four years of high school Spanish seeped into my brain and I blurted out "Uno euro, por favor" as I pointed to the cheese pizza. The man shot me a puzzled look, so I repeated, "Uno Euro, por favor." This time, he looked even more confused and irritated. Brian was standing next to me, so I gave him my own puzzled look. Brian softly whispered, "Spanish," and I finally realized the err or my ways.
The man finally intervened and said, "No. No 'uno.' Es un, un." My face started to turn bright red. As I stated earlier, this is a popular spot for the Italians so I imagined that he was incredibly frustrated over this American kid who thinks that Italian and Spanish are the same language.
Instead of paying by the slice, you tell him how big of a piece you want, usually via hand signals, then he weighs it and tells yow how much you owe. I thought I had this method down to a science, but yesterday I severely botched the order and embarrassed myself in front of my favorite pizza chef. I only had one euro in my pocket but was hungry, so I ask for one euro worth of the cheese pizza. Subconsciously, my four years of high school Spanish seeped into my brain and I blurted out "Uno euro, por favor" as I pointed to the cheese pizza. The man shot me a puzzled look, so I repeated, "Uno Euro, por favor." This time, he looked even more confused and irritated. Brian was standing next to me, so I gave him my own puzzled look. Brian softly whispered, "Spanish," and I finally realized the err or my ways.
The man finally intervened and said, "No. No 'uno.' Es un, un." My face started to turn bright red. As I stated earlier, this is a popular spot for the Italians so I imagined that he was incredibly frustrated over this American kid who thinks that Italian and Spanish are the same language.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Food Differences
Growing up in a completely Italian household has made me love pasta, meatballs, sausage, pork, and everything that we think of as Italian food. However, after arriving in Rome I realized fairly quickly that Italian food in Rome is not very similar to the American version. Here, there are no meatballs, I have seen sausage only on a few menus, and there is no such thing as chicken or veal parmesan. In Rome, the typical choices for food is some variation of pasta, pizza with exotic toppings, or a panini. To go along with this, most of the panini stands and shops offer only one type of meat, prosciutto. As a result, before going to Germany I was craving some delicious meat filled platters that I could gorge.
In Germany, we would stop at basically every vendor and restaurant that we saw to partake in some gluttony. All of the food was incredible. The potatoes were crispy. The sausages were tender and moist. It was everything I hope it would be. Not eating enough meat for two weeks as left me craving protein, so Germany was the perfect cure for this. I ate so much schnitzle, sausages, and brats that hopefully it should hold me for at least a couple more weeks. Until then, it is back to my diet of Italian foods.
In Germany, we would stop at basically every vendor and restaurant that we saw to partake in some gluttony. All of the food was incredible. The potatoes were crispy. The sausages were tender and moist. It was everything I hope it would be. Not eating enough meat for two weeks as left me craving protein, so Germany was the perfect cure for this. I ate so much schnitzle, sausages, and brats that hopefully it should hold me for at least a couple more weeks. Until then, it is back to my diet of Italian foods.
Italy vs. Germany
Before heading over the Frankfurt, I thought that it would be a city like New York because of all the hustle and bustle that is so common in major business districts. Frankfurt is one of the main business centers in all of Europe, but if you walked around not know this you would not believe it. On Friday around noon, there were no people in the business areas and it resembled more of a ghost town than a major financial district. There were very few cars on the road, and not too many people on the street in the downtown areas. Granted this was a Friday, but it was early in the afternoon so it was suprising to see only a handful of suits with briefcases. Perhaps Frankfurt is different than the U.S. Maybe they get out extremely early. Nonetheless, this did suprise me.
After getting back to Rome around 10 PM, I immediatley noticed the differences between the two cities. It was pretty late on a Sunday, yet the roads were still packed with cars and Vespas, and there were a decent amount of people walking around. On Moday morning, I was overwhelmed by the mass amounts of people on the street because I became accustomed to the lax German attitude after spending just over two days there. The people in Germany walk and drive slower compared to Italians. In Rome, constantly you are being bumped into and passed by speed-walking pedestrians who are usually in a rush for no apparent reason. Although we flew for just two hours north of Rome, the two cultures are completely different. I kind of like the German easy-going ways because they never seemed rushed and it was more peaceful.
After getting back to Rome around 10 PM, I immediatley noticed the differences between the two cities. It was pretty late on a Sunday, yet the roads were still packed with cars and Vespas, and there were a decent amount of people walking around. On Moday morning, I was overwhelmed by the mass amounts of people on the street because I became accustomed to the lax German attitude after spending just over two days there. The people in Germany walk and drive slower compared to Italians. In Rome, constantly you are being bumped into and passed by speed-walking pedestrians who are usually in a rush for no apparent reason. Although we flew for just two hours north of Rome, the two cultures are completely different. I kind of like the German easy-going ways because they never seemed rushed and it was more peaceful.
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