Cultural Camouflaging

A patriotic American myself, I am blessed to hail from the Land of Opportunity.  However, sometimes one just wants to fit in while abroad…especially when tourist season hits and flocks of our (sometimes obnoxious) compatriots descend on the city.  Here’s how to bamboozle the natives and avoid looking like an American.

How to Look Spiffy

Ok, so the weather is warming up.  A lot.  I know you are dying to slip into those Havaianas to show off your freshly painted toenails, but just. don’t. do. it.  I haven’t seen a single Italian wear them, and contrary to popular belief I HAVE seen my fair share of Italians this semester.  And shorts? Put ‘em back in the duffel.  Italians as a whole cover their legs for the most part.  I’ve seen longer skirts, but you will definitely get attention for wearing shorts (and that’s not always a good thing!)  When going out at night, avoid wearing tight, short skirts without tights.  This is a telltale sign you are American, and practically speaking, this getup isn’t really conducive to club dancing.  Also, for your safety, don’t disembark in stiletto heels at night.  The cobblestones present a particular challenge, especially after a glass or two of vino!  Your best bet is to stick with neutral colors and natural materials such as leather.  After all, Italians are known for their effortlessly chic style.

Oh Behaaaave

You slept in and are late to class.  Yikes!  Your first inclination is to run out the door and jog to class, book bag in hand, in complete disregard of others. Looking and acting as if you are in a rush will identify you as a foreigner.  As our Italian Cultural History professor explained, Italian time is more of an estimate.  You’ve got about 15 minutes leeway to show up to appointments, etc.  Italians embrace their pace of life, something that I’ve found has greatly reduced my stress.  (Note that buses and trains DO run on time, and CET classes for that matter…)

Speaking of buses and trains, make sure you validate your tickets!  There’s nothing like being singled out of a crowded bus and given a steep ticket for not knowing the cultural norms of public transportation.

*When making a grocery run*

Bring your own knapsack to the grocery store or don’t be surprised when a single plastic bag costs .08.  Though this is such a miniscule cost, it does add up, is less environmentally-conscious and could identify you as a foreigner.  Also, if the grocery store has a member card you can sign up for, get one!  Residents can sign up for a card which gives you great deals and makes you smile every time you pull it out at the register proving not only to the cashier, but to everyone else that you are a (semi) permanent resident!  Now, when you are at the register, avoid paying with the 1 and 2 eurocents.  The coins are so infrequently used that I’ve gotten strange looks when I pay with them.  Sometimes cashiers even round up or down a cent when giving you change.

Gastronomic Matters

ü  Don’t order a cappuccino in the afternoon!  An Italian coffee is ok, and even said to help digestion, but ordering a cappuccino post-lunch is bad form.

ü  If you go out for an aperitivo, limit the number of times you go back to the buffet.  One plate should be sufficient.  Each subsequent plate only hampers your ability to fit in.  After all, this is supposed to be a pre-dinner snack, not a multi-course meal.  While you’re at it, order a glass of wine or a Spritz as your drink.   These are the drinks locals tend to get and you may be disappointed at an Italian interpretation of a certain cocktail anyways.  Margar-whatta?

ü  When ordering gelato, don’t mix a cream-based gelato such as Nocciola (Hazlenut) with a fruit-based gelato like Limon.  Something about compromising the integrity of the flavors…

ü  Steer clear of any restaurant advertising its menu with images of food.  These places aren’t usually as authentic and cater to tourists.  The pictures never even look that good anyways!

ü  Ensure that the mushrooms on your pizza are Porcino!  The flavor of these mushrooms surpasses the alternatives and your knowledge of this Tuscan specialty will impress natives.

These are merely my humble observations.  They may or may not work for you.  With some behavioral adaptations, however, you should be able to assimilate into the Italian culture and fool them at least for a first glance.  This being said, if you’ve got blonde hair…good luck!

Spring Break in the South

I spent my spring break exploring the coast and meeting the people of Campania, a region in southern Italy. My best friend, Libby, made the trip in from Cairo (yes, the one in Egypt) to wander around with me in the coastal town of Sorrento, the frozen ruins of Pompeii, the island of Capri, and the metropolis of Naples. Though I may have been stationed in Florence for the past two months, I was no more prepared than Libby for the newness of the south.

After riding two trains through Italy to get to Sorrento, Libby and I decided to walk to our hotel. Though the walk was a thirty-minute trek straight up a seaside cliff, I saw the most beautiful set of coastline I had ever seen. I had never experienced anything like it. Cliffs shot down into the Bay of Naples, Mount Vesuvius loomed over the blue water, and I lost count of the number of lemon trees lining the road. When we finally reached our bed and breakfast, we quickly discovered that the proprietor and sole employee of the establishment spoke no English. An out of the way location, a monolingual owner, and sparse running water might have spelled disaster for some, but Libby and I thrived. I finally discovered that I could speak Italian—Alex and I rarely struggled to communicate, and I even translated for him. From his suggestions, we explored the area all the way down to a cozy rocky cove on the coast. A quick bus took us down to Sorrento, and we quickly discovered that all the rumors were true: southern Italy really does have the best food.

Just as we loved Sorrento for all that was living and thriving there, we loved all that no longer lived in Pompeii. The once grand Roman city stood static, embraced by tiny coastal cities and green hills. After Vesuvius erupted in 79 A.D., Pompeii and Ercolano lay underneath a thick layer of ash and rock, unwittingly preserving a perfect model of a Roman city. Though I doubt the Pompeian’s were happy that they gave up their lives for our benefit, I think Libby and I are only two of millions of people who are grateful for their gift. While Libby is surrounded by the relics of ancient Egypt in Cairo, and I by those of the Renaissance, Pompeii was the perfect middle. We were fascinated by the walls, the mosaics, the fountains (even the brothel, which was the most crowded spot in the whole city). One of the most interesting but also horrifying parts of Pompeii were the petrified human remains, or “the victims” as Libby called them, that littered the site. They were frozen in time, watching us pass by and admire what was once their home. Libby loved the Temple of Isis, a symbol of the Egyptian immigrant presence in the city, and I loved the grand House of the Dancing Faun, complete with a colonnaded courtyard and a private kitchen. We easily and happily spent hours among the ruins. At one point, we climbed a short wall and stepped into what appeared to be a closed off garden. Though this probably (definitely) wasn’t allowed, my close look at great columns and view into an empty Roman house are not experiences I will ever forget. Pompeii, older than Venice or Florence or Naples, symbolized the Italian tendency to preserve their culture. They actively seek to conserve their heritage; no Italian would forget that they are the inheritors of the Etruscan and Roman Empires. This archaeological site, many of which have been covered and built upon over the centuries, has become one of the most famous relics of history in the world.

Pompeii and Sorrento were two towns of different time periods. While Pompeii was ancient and purely Roman, Sorrento was bright and colorful. A newer Italy dominated the main drag, and the town focused more on its limoncello and tasty seafood than its Roman history. Capri, a famous but tiny island off the Bay of Naples, combined the small and shiny feeling of Sorrento, the cultural embrace of Pompeii, and something I had not yet seen in Italy: a love of nature. When we pulled around the northern corner of the island, I realized that I had only seen Italian cities. I had flown by the countryside in trains, but I had never really been surrounded by fresh air and salty, sloping cliffs. Our four days there were too fast; Capri was where we felt most at home.

The island was as empty as it could be. The Ferragamo and Louis Vuitton stores were closed, and the streets smelled of fresh paint, signaling preparations for the coming tourist season. But though the shopping was minimal, and tourists were scarce (especially at night), the locals wandered the streets and the cliffs whispered to the quiet town. A soccer player, Libby followed the sounds of whistles to a dirt soccer field squeezed between tiny streets in the middle of Capri Town. We later made the climb to Monte Solaro and Monte Cappello with only a few to keep us company, and we hiked along the Sentiero dei Fortini, a trail touching each of the centuries-old forts lining the western coast, with only a few lizards as companions.

For us, the natural and relatively untouched areas of the island drew us closest. Everything we saw was beautiful. While I’m sure the island has been kept this way deliberately, we couldn’t help but compare it to the developed resort islands that litter the Caribbean. Even the Blue Grotto, the most famous attraction of Capri where the water inside a small cave turns bright blue during the day, had an authenticity that I hadn’t seen anywhere else. Visiting Capri in the off-season, while a little cold, turned into the best decision of the trip. We went to the same local restaurant three nights in a row, we got to know our hotel proprietor, Lucia, very well, and even rode across the island in a few empty buses. Though we were just a pair of visitors in over 2000 years of tourism to Capri (there are Roman Villas to prove it), we loved the feeling of home exuded by Capri.

Staying in Italy for spring break, though uncommon, made me even more attached to Italy. I love speaking Italian, and I love seeing the endless facets of this relatively tiny peninsula. Even when we stopped in Naples for our last morning, the city’s contrast with its neighbors in the north made its size and slightly dangerous feel a source of fascination. I can no longer imagine only visiting Italy for one week, or even two weeks. Even after living here for two months, I have hardly scratched the surface. The country now seems like a friend; each city shows a different aspect of its personality, its beauty and its roughness. But I think that, like a friend, the thought of leaving it behind terrifies me.