5 Lessons In Italy

SUBJECT: Ciao Ragazzi!

(That means "Hello Friends/Family"),

I love the Italians..what a strange and wonderful group of people. Aside from the obvious, today has been a lesson in five more reasons:
1. Serendipitous missing luggage.
2. Customs and passport control.
3. The trains sans Mussolini.
4. Taxi Theft 101.
5. Learning one's true value.

1. I have arrived in Palermo safe and sound although my shoulders are mighty tired after carrying all of my luggage. I had to check my artist's easel at the airport in Rome today because for some GRAND IRONIC reason, the Italians consider such a piece to be highly dangerous and forbidden on the flights. The Americans and the Germans were fine with it. So, with two huge suitcases (one of which was temporarily misplaced but is now here, whew), one garment bag, and one artist's easel...only one piece of luggage was lost...go figure, the artist's easel. I think they made me check it so that they could steal it.

2. I was all ready and prepared to explain to customs why I was carrying such a large amount of baggage for what ia be a purely vacational trip back with a one-way ticket. I had my China teaching contract ready to show them I won't be staying here forever, a signed document that says my family would be willing and able to rescue me should something happen, a copy of my transcripts that show I am a recent USA college grad (so travel visa good for one subsequent year in the EU), a recent bank statement showing I have funds to survive on and won't be a bum, and some emails from friends in London saying I am always welcome to go there. I was all ready to explain in Italian or English..and guess what? No customs. No passport check, no questions, nothing. I expected to come into Rome go through customs, get my passport stamped, and do it again in Palermo. But I got off the plane from Germany and walked right out of the airport. Then, because I was on a domestic flight this morning into Sicily, I didn't have to do anything. I am thoroughly perplexed. But as an American on the train to the city center explained, the Italians don't really give a damn just as long as you are spending money on trinkets and expensive tours. And as my boss explained, since I went through Germany I got an EU stamp, and I can go anywhere now without having to do the customs. Who am I to argue?

3. So, the train from the airport was supposed to leave at 10:40am, and take 25 minutes to get to the city center. That puts me in at 11:05. Riiiiggghhttt. We finally pulled in at 12:45pm. It took 2 hours to go what should have been a quick trip. So much for making the trains run on time. But, you know what, it really didn't matter because I got to gaze out at sheer cliffs and pass by one of Sicily's famous street markets, and listen to old Italian couples bicker. La dolce vita indeed.

4. So my boss meets me at the central train station. He thinks we should take a taxi to my apartment because I have so much luggage, even though it's walking distance. He approached a taxi driver, explains the directions and asks how much. The taxi driver doesn't bat an eye at saying 35 Euro. That's $50 to go about 10 blocks. That's $5 per block. My boss scoffs and says 5 Euro ($.75 per block). They settle on 10 Euro, and the taxi driver has to deal with the luggage. And I know that there are loads of tourists who don't know what wretched thief's the taxi drivers are in this country and they just pay it. I've heard of the taxi drivers in Rome taking people to their hotels from Termini Station and charging the 100 Euro when it turns out the hotel is like 3 blocks away, but because it's so disorienting when you first arrive, nobody knows that. But people have to make a living somehow. Luckily, I'm hip to that and I work for someone who is also.

5. I should make a "You Might Be A Redneck If.." into "You Know You're In Italy When..." the guy across the aisle on the airplane offers to pay the guy sitting next to you 50 Euro (about $73) to switch seats so he can hit on you. And the the guy next to you doubles the price. According to the exchange, I am worth approximately 85 Euro. So, Daddy, the next time you consider selling me to the Arabs, I'm afraid you won't get that much. Wow, I actually know how much I am worth for a conversation. I leave this example for last because it really hit me that I was was back in Italy at that exact moment because despite hearing people speak in a different language, the funny differences in food, the strange gestures, and polished clothing, it could really be any foreign country until you get bid on for a conversation. Then you know you're back in the only place on earth where that would happen: Italia. Che bello (that's just beautiful).


But, in all truth, I can't believe I'm back. It's surreal and intimidating because I'm not just a tourist anymore. My Italian is coming back bit by bit...and I expect sometime next week to wake up, walk outside, and have it all come spilling out again. But in the meantime, I am taking a day to get time-oriented and a few days to get settled and unpacked. And right THIS moment (subito), I am sitting in my friends' living room and he is making dinner (or lunch...I really have no idea what time or day it is) and it smells divine. One of the perks of my life is a French friend who knows French cooking, but uses the Italian ingredients that he bought at the outdoor market this morning. And outside noisy Italian teenagers are setting off an endless string of firecrackers...but it never sounds like gunfire which I (sort-of) got used to while at school in Oakland. And a crazed half-Italian, half-French cat with an entirely rude name is currently drinking out of my water cup. And it's all ok, and makes me smile.

What a strange existence I am living. And I wouldn't trade it for the world. Thanks to all of you for helping make my dreams a reality. I love you all and miss you already.