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It was a week of face-to-face encounters with some humorous Italian women and a visit to a ancient marketplace. And at week's end, I got tangled in a massive anti-war demonstration. | |
| This dispatch almost did not get written, edited or even composed. One night, I turned on my trusty Toshiba -- and was greeted by vertical rainbow colored lines, a splotch of nothingness in the middle and what I could see looked like a television set searching for a channel. I thought for sure my computer had died. Several days later however, it came back to life. Ruling Woman is back in business. My experiences in my first full week in Rome unfolded quite gently. Layered, like the city, I guess. One day, while shopping in a kitchen store, I bought this adorable little thermos bottle -- for espresso. The shop clerk, somewhere in her sixties, took the object away from me and started talking rapidly in full Italian colloquialisms -- most of which I couldn't understand. She was madly gesturing with the tiny little object. She held it delicately in her hand, balancing it so that it would not teeter and started walking around the store. Talking. Gesturing. Apparently, I was finally able to glean, this was not really a thermos bottle. It is used to walk around your apartment, or to amble gently from the bar into the piazza. But, anyone who thinks they can throw it into their purse la tua borsa, she mimed, is in for una brutta sorpresa -- an ugly surprise. Then she began to laugh and winked at the other Italian women in the shop. An ugly surprise. It cracked me up. |
One sunny day, I was showing a visiting American the area around the Pantheon. I thought she might enjoy the chocolates made in a shop on a little street called Via Pie' de Marmo. I think it was named after a big marble foot that once resided on the street. I have been at the chocolate shop before, but, of course, I got lost trying to find it. I stopped in a little lingerie shop to get directions. The shop lady asked what I was looking for. I told her I was trying to find the shop that makes cioccolatini. Oh, she exclaimed, buoni cioccolatini. After seeing that I was confused by her directions, she closed up her shop, took my arm and literally walked us to the door of the chocolate shop and departed. After making my choices, I returned to her shop with a fondant-filled chocolate egg I'd purchased for her. She protested. But took it and smiled. It is not the first experience I have had with an Italian where they literally take you by the hand and get you to your destination. The streets of Rome were blocked everywhere on the first anniversary of the war in Iraq by the polizia and the carabinieri as demonstrators gathered. I was as drawn by the live television crews, including a three-story high camera crane, as I was by the gathering crowds. The protest blocked traffic everywhere. This, I discovered after waiting a half an hour for a bus that never came. It was a beautiful day for a demonstration. Did I join? Check out un po P.O.V. for the answer. |
Q - How's the Italian going? A - I am learning as much from the children, as I am in my classes. Q&A ARCHIVES  Ancient Market and Forum  First Week in Rome |