Top Ten Things That Never Change in Italy and France

So I’m comfortably back from my “Bullets, Butterflies, and Italy Book Reunion Tour.” For the past few weeks, I’ve detailed some of the dramatic 2012 changes in Rome, Siena, and Amalfi since my book research trip back in 2005 – including the closed Supperclub in Rome, the Siena Palio without Torre, and the reparations to Atrani after their horrific flood in 2010.

You can read all about them in past three posts. So today, I want to talk about Italy traveling in general. Just some observations that have nothing to do with the book. In fact, I’ll include France too. (After Italy, I journeyed by train to Nice, Cannes, and Paris, on the way back to London.)

So here we go….

The Top Ten Things That Never Change in Italy and France. (At least, not yet…!)

10. The best way to blend into a foreign country is avoid walking around with a backpack or luggage on wheels, of course. But after that…just carry a small book bag (like a local) and wear nothing with a flag on it (or your American university alma mater!) A scruffy beard helps. And wear shoes. Flip-flops mean you’re at the beach or spending a lot of time in the youth hostel communal bathroom. Europeans don’t wear flip-flops. I’m pale and freckly and yet I was stunned about how many times Italians stopped me in the street and asked for directions. “Really? You think I live here?”

9. Absolutely no one is ashamed of their bodies. Elderly. Flabby. Wrinkly. Skinny. Obese. Hairy. Very hairy. Sweaty. No clothes. Very little clothes. Too many clothes for such a hot day. Everyone walks about without a care in the world. Good for them! In fact, the beautiful women often demurely cover up and show even less skin to retain some of their mystery. Hollywood starlets could learn a thing or two from the French and the Italians.

8. However, there is still some shame assigned to eating alone in Italy. I usually received raised eyebrows and an incredulous “Solo?” whenever I approached an Italian waiter. Then they usually pointed to a table in the middle of the restaurant, tucked away from the primetime seats in the front. I usually received better treatment in France. The French waiters didn’t judge my lack of a dining companion and didn’t mind where I sat, even if it was along the sidewalk so I could people-watch the pretty pedestrians.

7. Still the most difficult thing to do in Italy is to get the attention of your waiter and receive the bill. They figure since a dinner can last hours, what’s your rush? In Amalfi, after frantically waving to my waiter for several minutes, I finally got his attention and told him my bus back to Salerno was leaving in five minutes…so could I please have my bill? I didn’t make it. The waiter started to walk back towards me inside three minutes, but then stopped to talk to his friend along the way. My urgency was ignored and I missed my bus. Luckily, I was in beautiful Amalfi so I didn’t mind hanging around the town for another hour.

6. I don’t care where you’re staying and how expensive your hotel is, but the continental breakfast is always a disaster. The scrambled eggs are lumpy. The bacon is overcooked. The cheese is alarmingly sweaty. And the juice is watery. I can only manage drinking their tea. And perhaps munch on a piece of toast. Disaster.

5. The rail service in Italy was overall better than I remembered it, but the trains still often arrive late. It becomes a problem when you have a tight connection. An hour’s delay in Rome meant I arrived late in Genoa and missed my next train. I jumped on another one an hour later, but that meant I missed my late night connection in Ventimiglia. And then I was stuck in a tiny town with only one dodgy hotel. So I, like the other stranded passengers, slept on the marble floor inside the train station, until the first train arrived for Nice at 5:17am the following morning. Oh, and what did I get for my delay in Rome? You know, after all the angry passenger yelling and all the profuse apologies from the beleaguered staff? A free bottle of warm water.

4. Many Americans still talk too much about their hometowns – and rarely what’s going on around them, right then and there. And rarely where they’re going. Or where they just came from. Hey, if we’re standing at the Trevi Fountain, let’s talk about that? Because I really don’t care about the best place to find waffles in Durham, North Carolina. Ever. (And put away your Duke University T-shirt, you stick out like a sore thumb.)

3. I’m still amazed how many tourists flaunt their big cameras and stuffed wallets. They leave them on tables; they wear them loosely around their necks; they count their money in the street. I guess, until they get robbed, they won’t heed the cautionary lessons from the guidebooks and the websites (and the authors) and try to be a bit more conspicuous. Now I always wear a money belt. Now I always use a small digital camera and store it in my front pocket. But that’s just me…

2. And I’m still amazed how rude tourists can be to waiters. The waiter speaks his own language but now he’s expected to learn yours as well? I lost count of how many English-speaking tourists simply approached the unassuming restaurant staff and just started babbling in English with their specific requests. Rarely did I hear a tourist start a conversation with a “Parla inglese?” or a “Parlez-vous anglais?” (“Do you speak English?”). Nope. Most just started speaking in verbose English while the frustrated Italian waiter tried to figure out their complicated questions. And parents were the worst! Sometimes their kids tried the local language and attempted a “grazie” or a “ciao.” But Mom and Dad powering through with “thanks” and “see ya.” Yes, they were polite…but in their own language. And not in the language of their humble host! It’s just rude. There’s no other word for it.

1. Yes, there are places to go and places to see. But sometimes there’s a great pleasure in simply stopping and sitting down. Get a beverage and watch the world go by. Ignore your camera. Ignore your phone. Just watch. Enjoy the view. Soak in the sounds. Don’t think about anything else except where you are. And how privileged you are to be there. This isn’t your home. This is the greater outside world. This is history. This will be a cherished memory. So embrace it for a moment. The waffles in Durham, North Carolina will still be there for you when you get back…
 

For more lists of things I learned while traveling, check out:

https://www.johnmeyerbooks.com/top-ten-things-i-learned/

https://www.johnmeyerbooks.com/basic-french-for-beginners/

https://www.johnmeyerbooks.com/resolve-your-resolutions/