Being an American in Italy is the equivalent to being a celebrity.
Waiters will kiss you as you walk by, and call you bella, which means beautiful.
One Italian put his hand over his heart and pumped it with his fist and pointed to me. This stuff makes me laugh. I usually end up as Facebook friends with most of these fellows.
Their broken english induces my smile, which makes communicating a game. I love it.
But not when I’ve been walking 11 hours in Venice, and have no idea how to get to the bus stop.
It’s the same in Paris. But not in London.
London is just like America but with british accents, fancy cars, and knee length skirts.
But back to Italy. Other wise known as my love.
Some waiters will bring you a glass of wine for free from their shops.
It happened today.
I was standing outside of a restaurant with two of my friends, Alex and Brittany.
We were lost on the streets of Venice.
Brittany had to use the restroom, so I slipped in to distract the waiters since you have to pay for the restrooms.
As Brittany slipped by, the conversation of broken english on the waiters part, and italian on mine began to grow.
But we couldn’t get past the hello.
Italian food will not stimulate the italian language, as eating french fries will not make American.
Normally I can get past the jumbled italian words that blend together, but I couldn’t shake these.
This guy didn’t even know what hello was.
I knew Brittany was going to come out the bathroom, so I kept it short and simple, and waved goodbye with a smile.
But before Brittany had a chance to come out, another waiter brought 3 glasses of wine out.
We were a little unsure and tell each other “everything’s a trick” after we found out that Gypsy’s in Paris were pulling tricks on freebies. But just before a man with a handful of roses came up to Alex and tried to hand her two roses, and asked for 3 Euros back.
We were unsure, so I pointed to the glass and asked, “for free?”
He nodded and smiled.