Italia. The foot sticking out in the Mediterranean. The cradle of Western civilization, or so they say. The effing Pope’s home ground1. A place I had the privilege of visiting to attend a conference recently. This article is about what an Americanized Indian felt while being in Italy, which is a bit of both America and India. Italian people are somewhere in between the cold professionalism and superficial pleasantries which are typical of Americans, and the disorganized habits and warm poke-your-nose-in-everything attitude of Indians. Let me explain by first painting a picture of America.
US road signs are quite detailed
When I first came to the US, the thing which struck me was how polite Americans were. They smile at you and are helpful. Things run smoothly and efficiently. There is proper procedure and a defined system for everything. Being an outsider in the US is completely hassle-free because the whole country is designed for people to exhibit their individuality and do their own thing. Signs are detailed and in English, which is pretty much the accepted world language. You have no trouble doing something new or figuring something out. Supermarkets have aisles dedicated to breakfast cereal. Google Maps tells you exactly which lane to be on in the freeway to get to your destination. In short, life’s easy. You don’t need to be born in the country or know all about it to start living in it. Nobody stares or laughs at you if you do something wrong or mess things up. It all goes down as “It’s ok man, don’t worry. How can I help you?” and so on.
India, on the other hand, requires you to know stuff to do stuff. You need to know that simply standing in line will never get you to the ticket counter, you need to push and jostle your way through. Cars won’t stop and allow you to make a right, you have to seize the moment and blast your horn to avoid an accident. You don’t get a choice of breakfast cereal, you pretty much hop down to the street corner and buy Kellogg’s Chocos. People don’t smile and greet you in the street, some of them downright glare at you if you come in their way. In short, India’s tough.
But…
But my American friends, listen up. You guys are way too professional. Way too cold. You think only about your own lives and let the rest of the world go to hell. You are superficially nice and charming and you shave and wax2 every day, but you lack warmth and an intrinsic feeling of caring for others. And it’s not that I’m pointing fingers and going you Americans are cold and heartless. Nope. I’m getting there as well. Individuality and leading your own life is so addictive, I find myself caring less and less and becoming more superficial and professional with every passing day. And that’s why Italy enchanted me. It felt like a throwback to India. A return to the happy chaos and noise and warmth of India. I never knew when to cross the street in Rome since neither traffic nor pedestrians ever stopped moving. People would wave their hands like traffic policemen and ask cars to stop as they crossed the street. I eventually worked out a scheme where I would wait at the sidewalk for some Italians to arrive and cross the street and I would tag along. It was the only way I found of avoiding death.
Cars parked in Rome
Italian drivers don’t honk, which is great, but that doesn’t mean that traffic is orderly. I am so glad I shelved my plans of driving in Italy, parking alone would have given me sleepless nights. And then there was the case when I was sitting inside an Uber stuck in traffic when I noticed several motorbikes speeding along in the same direction down the adjacent lane which had no cars. So I asked my driver, “What is that lane for?”
“That’s for traffic in the other direction.”
Not wanting to look stupid, I asked him, “Why are there motorbikes going in our direction down that lane?”
“Oh don’t worry”, he said with a smile, “that is how we drive in Italy.”
Of course. I am from India. How did I not realize that there would be other parts of the world where it’s quite acceptable to be in the wrong lane? The whole world’s not LA.
I really liked the few conversations I had with Italians, whether they be Uber drivers or hotel managers or tour guides or restaurant workers. There was always a sense of connecting to me when they talked, as if they wanted to reach out and understand me as a person despite the language barrier, which was crippling at times. One hotel manager had to use Google translate on his phone to understand that I wanted a taxi to the airport at 3am.
Traditional Sardinian lamb stew
When I went to a Sardinian restaurant, the waitress got visibly agitated when I started having food in the wrong custom. She had placed a basket of bread in front of me and, hungry as I was, I had started to eat it. I mean it’s bread, what else would you do with it? Well, it turned out that most of the bread was for show and you were only supposed to have a bit of it with the rest of the meal when it came. When she eventually brought me the other dishes (which were very flavorful by the way), she explained Sardinian cuisine passionately and gave me a pat on the back as if to say “There son, now do you understand how to eat?” It was so different from American waitresses who never cease to have the same smile plastered on their faces and care two hoots about the way you eat.
The conference was in a university in Alghero, which is a quaint little town on the west coast of Sardinia – an island west of the Italian mainland. It is truly a place for relaxation. The university is right next to the coast, which is serenely beautiful. Some of the conference attendees would wander off to sit alone next to the coast and stay there for long periods of time, as if the only thing they wanted was to walk the rainbow bridge from the world of academics and work to the glorious sunset on the horizon.
Rome was next on my list after the conference ended. There was the usual amazing stuff which makes Rome famous – Sistine Chapel and St. Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican, the Colosseum, the Pantheon and Trevi fountain. But the city itself is just so grand. Normal buildings like the Supreme court would be tourist attractions had they been anywhere else in the world. I mean, just look at this:
A place for justice or a budding wonder of the world?
Strolling through the streets of Rome is like being in a different timeline and a different world altogether, one with uber-elevated standards for grandeur. I honestly got bored after a while, everything was just so intricate and beautiful. It’s like when you’re in Manhattan – the first few minutes feel amazing and then you just grow so tired of the tall buildings that when you see a 50-storeyed building, it’s like seeing a McDonald’s in any major US city. Speaking of McDonald’s, they are ubiquitous in Rome and, for some reason, are very well demarcated. So well that I actually thought the big M stood for metro because there’s one every couple of streets. And then there’s this McDonald’s right beside the Spanish Steps which is the oldest and suffers from albinism:
White McDonald’s sign
But the highlight for me was getting to see Julius Caesar’s grave and the Roman forum, where Mark Antony gave that speech. Yes, that one which my entire batch studied for our secondary examinations. That one which is a favorite in elocution competitions. Here they are:
Rome definitely has plenty to offer and is worth multiple visits. But seeing my English textbooks come to life totally made my day. Imagine those commoners standing in the Roman forum while Antony went on and on in front of Caesar’s dead body, each word of his a nail in the conspirators’ coffins. This is where it all happened. Chilling realizations. Unfortunately the exact place where Caesar was murdered isn’t really a special place now and is not on any tours. That would have completed the experience.
My final stop was Venice. You probably know all about Venice. It is the city where canals are streets, a magical place for romance and enchantment, a city like no other in the world. All that is true. Unfortunately it is also a city where living sucks. You wouldn’t want to be a Venetian, trust me. There is no public transport. Want to get from point A to point B? Walk. Walk through some of the narrowest streets you’ll ever find. Don’t want to walk? Get your own boat. Can you park it? What if the only parking you find is on a side which can only be accessed through water? Such things happen in Venice.
When the time finally came for me to head back to LA, I found that I was really looking forward to returning. Don’t get me wrong, Italy is absolutely amazing. The Sardinian coast is beautiful and is truly a place to leave the world behind and seek enlightenment. Rome is a mesmerizing mix of the Roman empire around the 2nd century, the Renaissance around the 16th and present day. Venice is one of a kind. The fact that such a city can actually exist is enough to drive me crazy. It’s like if Hogwarts existed for real with flesh-and-blood wizards and witches strolling through it. And I didn’t even get a chance to visit Florence and the italicized tower in Pisa, let alone places like Milan, Naples and the Amalfi coast, all of which are must-dos for tourists. But despite all the beauty, there is something to be said for the cold efficiency of the US. Life is just better here. You can drive without worrying about killing someone or getting killed. And you can drive cars, not boats. Ambulances can go at 90 mph if need be, not the maximum of 20 kmph like in Venice. People maintain order and you can be yourself. I think I now understand why people travel. Traveling itself brings experiences, not necessarily pure pleasure. Some of the experiences can be weird and taxing. But the pleasure which comes from returning home, back to the comfort and familiarity of the place you know and understand and speak the language of, never underrate that pleasure. Returning is one of the unspoken joys of traveling. Italy may be marvelous, but it’s not LA.
My building in LA
1Yes I know the Vatican isn’t technically in Italy, but a guinea pig isn’t technically a pig and it doesn’t come from Guinea. Let it go.
2Why men wax off the hair on their chest is still a mystery to me.
cobaltfolly 
I somehow stumbled upon this post.. It’s very well written!
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And I really like your statement “Returning is one of the unspoken joys of traveling”.. So true!
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