America vs. Italy Musings

Aside from being offered cheese in place of dessert, there are a few other things that are rather different over here in Italia. I have been making special mental notes about them in the hopes of collecting enough to make an entry out of them… It’s a work in progress.

1.     Cheese: no matter how many times it’s offered to me, and clearly no matter how many times I mention it here, I still won’t get used to it. Coming from a country that specializes in junk food, it’s quite strange to be offered a hunk of bleu cheese instead of an Oreo and a glass of milk. I absolutely love it, but it’s still a strange concept.

2.     Clothes: this one requires a bit more explanation… In Cortina, the traditional clothing is similar to that of Germany (lederhosen and whatnot). However, I was unaware that it is still considered acceptable to dress children in such clothing on days other than October 31… What I thought was an attempt at irony, turned out to be a widely occurring thing. I will post a picture of one such child as soon as I can get one.

3.     Those 6 Glorious Inches: you know the ones I’m talking about. That small swatch of cloth that covers that critical area of man-thigh just above the knee. That tiny region which American males so desperately cover with long, baggy shorts, are paraded about by Europeans without any regard for common decency. It has been quite a culture shock.

4.     Food: it’s amazing. My afternoon snack looked like something I would serve as an appetizer for an esteemed guest. I think I’ll be okay here. 

5.     Snacks: there are none. I have taken to hoarding a personal stash of nectarines in my room, which I find I have to replenish every couple of days. It’s like these Italians have never heard of secondbreakfast, elevensies, or even afternoon tea.

6.     Humor: I hang out with a 13 year old whose second language is English. Don’t get me wrong: she’s amazing. Very mature for her age, and hysterical, but through an unfortunate combination of the language barrier and our age difference, I find my jokes are often lost on her. This pains me. Without constant access to twitter to vent my constant random musings, or texting to share my latest mishap, I find myself unable to share my more amusing thoughts, my most recent one being this morning’s realization: The house/ski cabin I currently reside in is constructed out of wood (duh), but the floors aren’t the finished wooden floors I’m used to from my own home, they have a more natural feel to them. This is great. It lends the house a very authentic atmosphere, which makes me feel like I should be yodeling with my pet goats. However, because the wood is unfinished, it leaves feet vulnerable to splinters. Unaware of this hidden danger, on the first night I was running around barefoot like some savage. Giovanna nearly had a heart attack, found a pair of slippers for me, and insisted that I always wear them when in the house. It wasn’t until I put them on this morning that I realized how ridiculous I looked: while Guido and Anna donned their adorable blue and red slippers lined with wool and embroidered with snowflakes, I was schlepping around in old, albeit comfortable red grandpa slippers. Without even realizing it, I would put on a skirt or a dress for the day, and then complement my outfits with my slippers, sometimes going so far as to rock my always-patterned socks with them... I cringe even now as I type. Though my father would commend me for my choice of comfort over fashion, my mother would be torn between fits of hysterical laughter, and outright shame. Thank goodness my only witnesses are people who already love me for my wit and sparkling personality.