Our Italian Adventure: Strangers and Friends
I can't help myself when it comes to meeting people from other places and other cultures, whether it's here in the US or in a foreign country. On this trip, whenever possible--in a restaurant, in a cab, on a tour--I would try to converse as much as possible with waiters, cabbies, and other tourists. Maybe I'd try to practice my Italian language skills, or just learn more about another culture. Italy is full of people from all over the world, so this aspect of our trip was a big part of our adventure. Maria and I got to know people out of my desire to learn more, along with my yearning to speak Italian.
At Casa Fatima we got to know the sisters running this hotel near the Vatican, and they were a delight. We hope that we brightened up their days half as much as they did ours. We made friends with Aldo, the porter, too. He gave us the instructions for getting to the restaurant for our very first meal in Italy. At breakfast we met another traveler. Her name was Kika; she was from Colombia, but living in Paris. She was on a visit with a Catholic religious organization and became a friend to us while we were at the hotel. We also met a Vietnamese Catholic priest who was staying at the hotel.
The hotel front desk staff was made up of younger people, too. We had fun visiting with the Cuban guy and the Dutch guy there, as well as a young lady (Italian?) who spoke English with a definite Australian accent. Quite an experience.
Marco took Maria and me to a local bar for drinks and appetizers. The atmosphere there was young, loud, and very friendly. We enjoyed a lively conversation with Marco, followed by a nighttime tour of various parts of Milan. A wonderful evening! Grazie, Marco!!
Realizing that he saw this particular mission as unrewarding, I began to yell at him (I think I was a little stressed out). I told him that if he didn't want to take us, he could leave us right there (I meant to say us, but I actually said "leave me right here," and I'm sure that Maria, who was pretty frightened at this point, wouldn't have liked to be left alone with this guy). I pointed out to the guy that the trip may have been short, but that Maria was unable to walk that far.
The cabbie told me again, in a voice meant to calm me down, that there was no issue here, and that he would gladly take us to our destination. There were about forty seconds of awkward silence as he drove on, and then he turned to me and asked: "Where are you from?" Looking straight ahead, and answering him In a stern voice, I told him we were from the United States. Several more uneasy seconds later, and I asked him where he was from. "Punjab," he answered.
Once again I got to know someone new. Only this time we just took the long way to get there.
Grey the Mime isn't really a mime, as his handout literature says. He spoke a few words here and there as he made fun of, and had fun with the tourist traffic near the piazza in front of the Uffizi Galleries in Florence. This white-faced, blue haired street entertainer would begin his "show" by following oblivious tourists, mimicking their walk or their actions. He might tap them on one shoulder, and the tourist would turn and be surprised to see his exaggerated expression of shock or fear.
Soon, Grey had a large audience of people roaring with laughter as he played with the people passing by. Most people would laugh with a little embarrassment. A few didn't get the joke and would say something mean and stomp off.