To preface the scathing review of Italy in which I am about to indulge, I feel the need to say to all those Ital-a-philes out there that this was just one North Carolina girl's limited experience and therefore, should be taken with a grain of salt, laughed at and dismissed.
Now, let the Italiabashing begin!
1. Italians stare a lot, and when you catch them, they scowl at you.
2. Italians move like they drive-- on your ass. Excuse me sir, but there is a reason that the expression "breathing down one's neck" has a negative connotation. Now get the fuck off of me.
3. The doppleganger of Whitney Houston's assassin in the Bodyguard watched me struggle to haul my 25 lb. pack to the rack above my train seat, and then proceeded to scowl (this again) when I finally sat down... as if my struggle annoyed him. Kevin Costner's doppleganger would have helped me lift my bag. Punk.
4. Italians give directions like assholes. Period. The receptionist at my hostel told me that all I had to do to find the metro was to walk out the hostel and turn right. In the pouring rain. 20 minutes later, pack now weighing 30 lbs., two old ladies, driving like maniacs (albeit generous lovely maniacs) were driving me to the metro. Because it was NOT out the hostel door and down the street on the right. Not even close lady.
5. Italians treat you as if you are a stupid because you don't speak Italian. Newsflash, no one speaks Italian except Italians, and a few overzealous language students (Susanna, you are my favorite exception... or maybe the rule). You know how Americans have the annoying habit of just speaking English louder amd slower when they encounter a foreigner? Italians do not have this habit. They just stop listening to what you're saying and speak much much faster, in Italian, then they were before they realized that you couldn't speak Italian. And then they act as if you don't understand the most basic of instructions, even if they are given to you in English. Nothing funny about this, just terribly annoying.
6. Italians like to flex their proverbial muscle, especially train station employees. I have been bullied more by Trenitalia than all my childhood experiences combined. During the strike in France, my train from France to Italy was late, so I missed my reservation. When I asked the lady at the ticket counter how I should proceed from here, since it was not my fault that I lost my reservation, she replied, that is France's problem, not Italy's. Customer service must not translate in Italian. Another guy stole my ticket for no reason and with no explanation, and told me that I couldn't have it back until I gave him a 56 euro "fine". When I tried to find out why he was doing all this, he told me that because I am in Italy, he was not going to speak English to me, even though he could. Dick. Does that translate?
7. I have yet to encounter an Italian meal in Italy that is as good as Vivace. But I have had some great falafel.
8. Italian men are polite enough when approaching you on a romantic level... until they realize that you are not Italian. I may not speak the language, but I have worked in enough American kitchens to know when someone is saying crude things about you because they think you don't understand the language. And I do not appreciate. You hear me Jersey Shore?! Go back to Mama, and learn some manners.
9. The Italians put a damper on my Italian wine drinking experience. The wine was so cheap and delicious, and they ran me off. I think that makes me the most mad of all!
And finally...
10. There are McDonald's everywhere... but no Biscuitville. ;-)
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