#42 On Rome

By the time I got to Rome, living in Italy was wearing on me like a non-Italian pair of shoes. I was tired of working for 4 schools and not guaranteed a time or date of payment. I was sunburned and sick of the humidity. The thought of white bread turned my stomach and all I wanted was a piece of toast with seeds in it.

I knew too much. I knew the difference between someone being nice and someone scamming you. I knew where to cross the street the fastest. I was a line-cutter: guilty.

E10 is a lot of money for an Italian. You can feed your family for a week with vegetables from the market. E10 on a pizza and a beer in Rome was unheard of for me. I felt like this city cheats both my Canadian people and my Italian people at the same time.

I feel like this city is huge and full of tourists. The food, of course, is delicious. If you want to go and eat really good Italian food by all means go to Rome.

But in reality, Rome isn’t Italy. Rome is Las Vegas. Rome is grander than life and all wrapped up in a perfectly organized roads sort of way. You don’t get lost in Rome. People don’t yell in Rome.

People are not Italian in Rome.

All the Romans either work in the service industry or outside Rome, missing their city. That is the real Italy. The heartbreak of living away from the place you were born. They don’t have to move to another country to feel it. When you are forced to move away because of work, your heart is always broke, no matter how positive you stay about it.

A friend of mine moved from Rome to Turin for work. She commutes 4 hours a day to Milan and back. Everyday. She is Roman and accepts her life as it is. She is the most positive person that I know.

By the time I got to Rome I was in the bargaining stage of my break-up with Italy. I loved parts of it so powerfully and yet I saw the negative side. Some things grated on my very last nerve.

So, Rome, for me, has a different perspective. It’s like going to Disneyland after you’ve worked for Disneyland. You know too much.

My dad was always interested in marketing and sponsorships in the corporate world. My little brother was fascinated by the behind-the-scenes work in film and theatre. You can imagine my enjoyment when we went to a movie together and I had my dad on the one side commenting, “PEPSI placement. Look at that, the movie must be sponsored by Mercedes”; on the other side of me, my brother was searching for cut scenes and green screens.

This is what I saw when I was in Rome. Marketing, American culture, and the green screens that are smoke screens to cover up the beauty marks of Italy. Yes, you can have an American breakfast in Rome… this thought disgusted me until I realized that tourists can’t accept espresso. It takes a long time to get used it. It’s not fair to ask that from someone.

So I sit here conflicted because you didn’t come to Rome to pay attention to the green screens and the foreign advertising. You came to Rome to get your picture with the coliseum and use the #WheninRome hashtag. For that, I won’t spoil your ideas. I won’t tell you about the guy in the back pulling the strings.

I’m trying not to spoil it for myself either. The truth is, Rome breaks my heart because it’s the last city on this adventure in Italy and every cobblestone reminds me of that. But let’s stay positive and be appreciative of our experiences. It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

I will, however, share with you that #WheninRome, you’re paying too much money for Pasta that you can get outside the city. Stop buying bottled water, they give it to for free at the fountain.

I'm sorry, I can't. You can read all this crap on someone else's blog. 

My advice: 

In Rome, take advantage of the E2 wine and get drunk in the middle of the afternoon under a big shady tree and write all the poetry that comes to mind. 

Buy a pack of E4 cigarettes and chain smoke them while you're walking down the street. No one will bother you, they will think you're Italian. 

Talk with your hands. 

Glare at strangers. 

Don't go to any restaurants, go to the supermarket deli section and have them make you a sandwich instead. 

Get lost.