Ostriches and Unwanted Italian Company


My roommate says I’m like an ostrich. You know, how they hide their head in the sand when they’re scared, thinking that their body is hidden too — although I’ve recently found out that this isn’t true and the man who started the myth is, ironically, Roman. Apparently this guy wasn’t all that smart because while Mt. Vesuvius was erupting and people were running for their lives, he went to Pompeii to witness the action and be a hero. And then he died. If I were an ostrich, I’d be like: “Haha, that’s what you get for spreading your lies!”

Anyway. The reason why my roommate says I’m ostrich-like is because in uncomfortable situations, I tend to look down and not make eye contact and act like I’m invisible, hoping that the problem at hand will disappear. Good observation Laura. This has happened a few times, including: #1 – when that greasy waiter Nico tried to flirt with us; #2 – when this little girl came up to our table asking for money & we said we didn’t speak Italian so she goes “Thank you very much. Money please?”; and #3 – the most awkward train ride of my life this past weekend. I’ll explain.

Two of my roommates and I went to Siena and Pisa for our four-day weekend. We got on the train to Siena Friday morning and sat in a compartment with three guys because those were the only seats available. At first everything was…normal. They didn’t say anything to us, we didn’t say anything to them. And that would’ve been fine with me. But somehow, someone started talking to someone else and then I tried to hide my face in my Rick Steves Italy 2008 book. Ok, I might be exaggerating and they were actually nice guys, but it was just a weird experience altogether. One of my roommates was reading Us Magazine and the guy next to her decided that he should read it with her and turn the pages himself. Then she gave up on it, handed him the magazine and pulled out her iPod so she could be left alone. But that was a mistake because then he asked to listen to it too. The guys also asked to take pictures with us, which I did reluctantly. And you can tell that I’m uncomfortable in them, look:

We did get a few good things out of it. I got to practice some Italian. I could make out most of what those guys were saying (like: “We go to Florence together and go dancing” & “Tupac is the best”). But we had a little trouble trying to tell them “We all have boyfriends.” I still don’t think they got it. Maybe that’s why they gave us their numbers and bought coke and chocolate for all of us. Oh well. The important thing is, I’ll never see them again. Good riddance.

A picture of me, happy, alone, and without Italian creeps


One Response to “Ostriches and Unwanted Italian Company”

  1. 1 Lenard

    Haha…I think those are the same dudes that hit on ME when I was in Italy.

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