I like to take pictures. And I'm sure most of you like taking pictures too. It's an exhilarating and satisfying feeling to take that one super artsy shot with your fancy iPhone camera, post it on Instagram and watch those little white and orange hearts appear to tell you people like your creativity and sweet picture-taking skills. So why am I suddenly self-conscious to reach into my purse, aim my phone at some cool thing and take a picture? I have realized I look nothing like an Italian, nor do I dress like one, nor do I speak like one--which is the biggest giveaway of all. I instantly appear like a tourist when I try to take pictures of architecture people in Genoa witness everyday, and goodness knows when the actual camera appears it's even worse.
When I draw attention to myself in this manner or walk around in a large group, as is practice with any study abroad, I subject myself to the relentless appeals of "gypsies." They are the people who are just trying to "make a buck" as my roommate Katelyn says (and yes we spell our names the same because we are awesome). They sell cheap suveniors and will do anything to sell them to unsuspecting tourists. For example, today as we were receiving a historical tour of Genoa, a group of gypsie salesmen spotted our group. They must have given each other those little nods and glances in our direction, forming a silent and cohesive plan, and then one by one formed a square around us displaying obviously cheesy and highly tourist-y Genoa magnets. After several times of saying "no gratzi" and then doing our very best to ignore the trapped circumstances we faced, they began to slink away. They are relentless at first, but if your forceful in whatever you say to them, silently or not so silently, they will leave you alone.
I guess I am also easy to spot as an outsider because Genoa is not a large tourist attraction. If you asked me a year ago for a list of major Italian cities, I don't think Genoa would have made the cut. It should have though. Many people don't realize the rich history here. Genoa is home to Christopher Columbus (his dad was a gatekeeper here), it has the largest preserved medieval portion in Italian cities, and also is one of the major port cities--has been since the 800s. If you pay attention to international news you would have seen Genoa's port being recognized for a tower collapse from a boat collision; it's been a catastrophic event in Genoa, I would equate it to the Space Shuttle explosions we've seen happen twice in the US.
A lot of the people residing here don't speak English, which is another tell-tale sign of a lack of tourism. For example, all of the stores I went into today had no experienced English speakers, thus forcing me to break out my translation guide so I could try and articulate my point of being there. It's been a challenge, but a welcomed one because it's forced me to learn the Italian language at a more rapid pace. At least this makes me a less ignorant tourist. I think the shop owners appreciate that I make an attempt to speak to them in their native tounge--all have been so friendly and understanding of my lack of Italian speaking skills.
I also bought pants today. Why? Because I made the mistake of wearing shorts. I may have said in my last blog, but I will reiterate, no one wears shorts here...apparently ever. They also believe in the onion principle. It's all about the layers. It's cool in the morning; you need a jacket. It's hot in the day time; you take off the jacket. You stuff the jacket in your large purse and wait until the evening when it gets cold again. And repeat.
Mind you, I've still said nothing about the food. I'll give you a preview to the blog I will write exclusively about Genoese food...IT'S SO GOOD. So many carbs. But also a good amount of veggies too. This makes life as a vegetarian pretty easy in Italy, thank goodness. I've been fed very well so far, obviously, or I would not be dedicating a whole blog to it.
I'm finally finding myself sleepy though, which is good. So cheers to sleeping better tonight!
Ciao :)
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