by Emily Hernandez, The Third
Italy.
Italy, Italy, Italy.
It has been mostly a nonstop embarrassment fest for me, mostly because I am so awkward in regular life that it is only that much more heightened while in a different cultural setting.
One particular experience involved a quick trip to a local market in Florence. It looked unassuming, friendly, and precious as many Italian businesses do. I found what I assumed to be raspberry soda (but turned out to be carbonated water) and a few other common items such as yogurt and a couple of different varieties of fruit. It was not just any fruit, however, but the kind of fruit my body was desperately craving after having gorged for the first week of my trip on the typical Italian fare of pizza, gelato and pasta. Gorgeous looking peaches and some spotless pears were calling my name and I could almost not contain my excitement at having found them, not realizing until that very moment how desperately I wanted them.
I headed to the narrow check out lanes, Euro in hand and ready to pay so I would not hold up the regular customers. The check out employee, a twenty-something dude who looked quite spent, barely looked up at me when I placed my items on the tiny conveyor belt. When he got to the fruit, he began to spew angry Italian through clenched teeth at me. As panic set in, I tried desperately to figure out what I had done to warrant such public humiliation. A customer behind me was kind enough to inform me that I should have weighed and labeled my fruit before going to the check out, in not so many words.
Furthermore, I could not decipher how to go about weighing the fruit because there was no clear instruction.
In summary, I found myself in an awkward situation. I so desperately wanted to prove myself a competent foreigner but only succeeded in filling the "stupid tourist" mold.
This situation caused me to reflect upon the many times when I have refused another person patience. I felt stupid and alone. The humiliation I felt snow balled into utter lack of confidence as I started to question why I was even in Italy. If I could not even properly buy fruit, then what made me believe I could attend a graduate program for almost a month?
I freely admit I can be a drama queen. In retrospection, I should have accepted my failure as part of the overall experience. No one is perfect, not even me as much as I try.
In the future I hope to be able to laugh at myself a little more.
Emily? The Emily I met in the Hostel in Florence? I hope it's you. This is Jacelyn. I wanted desperately to leave you a note before I left that morning but my pen was out of ink (thank Dr. C and Giovanni for that one) and though I did make an honest effort to write something in lipstick - I really felt that sent the wrong message entirely. :)
ReplyDeleteFrom one Drama Queen to another - don't worry about weighing the fruit. That one got all of us! If you want great fruit in Cagli go visit Carla. Walk out of the iron gates outside of school and take a right. Follow the road until you get to the end of the school building and take another right. Walk to the end of the road, look to your left, and you'll see Carla's fruit stand. She doesn't speak English, but her fruits and veggies are DIVINE and you don't have to weigh them! Bonus!
Have you found Romano yet? If not, ask Kris or Dave to introduce you. He was such a help to so many of us in session one. Make sure to have a drink at Jake's in the evening and chat with Maria Sole (guessing on the spelling) - she speaks English very well and is so patient and wonderful about answering Italian language and culture questions.
I hope you are doing better. I've been thinking about you the last few days. Chin up, girl. It gets better. I cried when I got there and sobbed when I left. You are going to love it in the end. I promise!