When in Rome, Part 2

My last night and day in Rome were monumental.

Kathleen and I returned from our walkabout thoroughly exhausted, with an hour or so to kill before our last dinner in Italy, and for the first time I appreciated having a room of my own. We each took showers, threw on shorts/a nightgown, lied down on our beds, ate from a bag of peperoncini-(peppers)- flavored potato chips, watched Will & Grace and Desperate Housewives dubbed in Italian, and felt thoroughly American. After a month without, even I needed a little slice of Americana in my life. Then we dressed up in our finest clothes (I hadn't worn my khakis all month and didn't want to have brought them for nothing) and went to Piazza di Spagna for dinner... at McDonald's.

In defense of choosing McDonald's for our last dinner in Italy, it was highly recommended to me by none other than Cinzia. And indeed, McDonald's (especially the one in Piazza di Spagna) is so strange here. There were two floors; the first featured a cafe/bar with all kinds of pastries and the standard Italian coffee drinks, as well as some McCafe specialties with decidedly "Italian" twists, such as pistachio- or hazelnut-flavors. The second floor was the restaurant, and by McDonald's standards, it was nice. The menu wasn't as different as Cinzia led me to believe, but I got a Peroni on tap, which was excellent and un-American. I also got a Crispy McBacon or something like that. Which was pretty American. And so good. It was a lot of fun, and it was definitely an experience, so I don't regret eating at a McDonald's abroad. All dressed up, we felt McClassy.

Next we went to have wine on the Spanish Steps. Kathleen had a bottle in her purse, along with my corkscrew and plastic cups we took from the maid's cart at the hotel, but we had no idea how amazing a last night it was going to be. I never found out why, but a pianist and four opera singers were unexpectedly performing in front of the fountain at the bottom of the steps. Despite the crowd, we found a step to sit on, uncorked our wine, and listened to opera for nearly an hour. I know little about opera, but we thought it was a pretty awesome way to spend our last night in Rome, and I really loved it.

I spent my last day in Rome on very diverse pursuits. First I ran some errands, bought my last jar of Nutella, (resulting in me leaving Rome with one empty, two unopened, and one in progress) and coffee to bring home, mailed my postcards from Catania (about a week late), and found an internet cafe to check my flight information. Then I decided I wanted one last Italian cappuccino, and my day got a little more interesting.

I decided to go to a bar near the Colosseum that I'd seen the day before. There were a few people at tables outside, but no one else was at the bar, so the barista smiled at me, asked me for just a moment while he ran a check to someone's table, and then, returning, asked me what I wanted. The remarkable thing about the interaction that followed is that I had the entire conversation in Italian. I've long been able to order food and drinks, pay for things, ask for help, and things like that, but social interaction requires more flexibility, a wider array of knowledge, vocabulary, and some colloquialisms. In short, it's a lot more difficult.

I ordered my cappuccino, which he brought to me a few minutes later. He said "you're American?", I said "the accent?", he laughed and said "yeah, I can hear it. A lot," and I laughed and said "damn." We talked a good bit. He asked where I learned Italian, where I studied, what I studied. I told him Political Science, and he gave me a look. I said, "you don't like Political Science?" And he said, "no, I just don't understand it." I said, "me neither." I asked him how the American accent sounded in Italian. He said, "very nice. I like it." I felt pretty successful. Eventually I finished my cappuccino, paid, and left. He said goodbye and good luck. I walked down the block and then kicked myself for like twenty minutes for not even getting his name. After another ten minutes or so, I decided to go back.

I wandered to Piazza di Spagna and took the metro back to the Colosseum, and then I walked back to the bar. He looked up and saw me, so I said, "I'm back." He said, "you're back." I ordered a coffee. It was busier than before, so he spent a lot of time walking back and forth, and he didn't say much, but he DID keep smiling at me, so I figured I hadn't weirded him out. My thinking was this: one, it'll be a long time before I have Italian coffee again; two, how could I write about my conversation on my blog without his name? (which I notice I've done up to this point anyway); and three, I really need people willing to practice Italian with, and I'd walked away from a perfectly good option. After a few minutes, I said, "you're not going to ask me why I'm back?" He said, "no," smiled, and told me to wait a minute while he took something outside. He came back and said, "I'm not going to ask why you came back, I'm just glad you did." So that shut me up, and I drank my coffee. Then I ordered another.

I talked to some American guys for a few minutes when they asked me what something on their wine bottle said. I hadn't talked to the barista much since I'd returned, but he was busy and I didn't want to be in his way. But I finally felt like I couldn't sit around much longer, so I took my empty cup up to pay. While he was looking for my change, I said, "I came back because I wanted a coffee." He laughed, so I asked him his name. He said Cristian (which isn't even Italian, although I'd assumed he was). I gave him my name, and I said I had to ask so that I could write about him on my blog without calling him "the barista." He asked if I was ever coming back to Rome, and I said sure, but I didn't know when. He told me to hold on a second, rummaged through a drawer, came up blank, and asked me for a pen. And then he gave me his name and e-mail address on the bar's business card. I said, "maybe you can hear my American accent sometime," and he said, "bravo." So now I have another person to practice Italian with.
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