Top Five Signs That You've Been Living in Rome For Too Long

Well, the final countdown is officially here.  In just a little over a week we leave Rome for a three week trip to Prague, Budapest, and Croatia.  (I know, I feel like the luckiest person alive.)  And then, when we get back to Rome, we only have two days to pack up before we catch a plane to Baltimore, drive down to Williamsburg, move into our new home, unpack, buy a car, and begin our new lives as a legal writing professor and a post-doc (who splits his time between Pisa and VA).  I'm not sure that I've even fully processed my feelings about everything at this point- it's just so incredibly exciting and terrifying all at the same time.  

In any case, as you've probably gathered from the blog, I've had an absolutely incredible year here in Italy and at the Academy, and am going to miss so many people, places, and aspects of Italian/Academy living when we go.  But, at the same time, there are also a whole lot of people and places that I miss back home, and I'm actually feeling a bit ready to resume "normal life" again.  So, with that in mind, here' are my top 5 signs that you've been living in Rome for too long:

Castel San'Angelo (Formerly Hadrian's Mausoleum, built in 135 AD ) 

One: Anything built after 1700 seems extremely "modern."  You know how when you're in the in the US people are totally wowed and amazed by 19th (and even early 20th) century buildings?  That seems completely ridiculous to me now.  The building I'm currently living in was built in the 1910s and it practically feels like  the most cutting-edge place around. Not to mention that most of the buildings in the US were built with local materials like wood and brick.  Really, how hard was that?  It's not like they had to transport huge slabs of granite from thousands of miles away (through the desert, uphill both ways) or anything.  Really, USA, come talk to me once your building is more like 2000 years old, has survived a bunch of wars, flooding, pillaging (and perhaps was turned into a fortress or something else equally cool).  Then maybe I'll be impressed.  

Two: You become convinced that the normal bedtime of all two-year-olds should be midnight.  I swear, the average toddler in Rome enjoys the night life more than Tom and I have for years!  Just wander down to any evening "hot-spot" in the city and you'll see dozens of parents out and about with their very small children (often with a glass of wine and/or cigarette in hand- I mean the parents, not the kids- not quite yet anyway). Sometimes the little ones are dozing in their strollers, but other times they're wide-awake and scampering about.  Of course, as an American, my first reaction to seeing this was shock and horror.  Shouldn't these precious bundles of joy be tucked into their comfy cribs full of pastel blankets and stuffed animals no later than 8 PM?  But then someone explained to me that this way, the kid sleeps in to around 10 or 11 AM  (and takes an early evening nap) and that it gives the parents plenty of time to recover and get some work done the morning after their night out. Maybe this schedule wouldn't work out so well if the child had to go to daycare on weekdays, but if there was a stay-at-home parent or a nanny/babysitter, does it really matter when the kid sleeps as long as he/she gets enough of it?  Is this actually the answer to parents' complaints that their kids never sleep in and/or that they have "no life" post-baby due to early bedtimes and pricey sitters?  Maybe Americans are really missing out on something great here!

Gelato covered in Olive Oil

Three: You start thinking about, referring to, and/or using olive oil as a "sauce." Before moving to Rome, olive oil wasn't much more than my favorite cooking oil. Sure, I also occasionally mixed it with some balsamic for an easy salad dressing, but that was about the extent of it- and I used it sparingly at that. But now, I've started using it for all sorts of things without really thinking about it.  Is the bread a little dry?  Dip it in olive oil, of course!  Have no sauce for your pasta? Drench it in olive oil!  Need a topping for your buffalo milk gelato?  Smother it in olive oil and sea salt!  (Okay, I'm not actually a big fan of that one, but Tom is.) And the crazy thing is, neither Tom or I have gained a pound despite the massive quantities we consume. The next thing you know, I'll be pouring it over my breakfast cereal...

Four: When you're annoyed, the first word out of your mouth is "Dai!"  Strictly translated, this expression (pronounced like "die") means "come on."  But, when it's articulated in a particularly exasperated, whiny tone (especially by a female), it actually means something more like "C'mmmoonnn you big stupid meany-face, why can't you just do what I want you to do? Pllllleeeeaaaaasssse."  Needless to say, it can be a helpful expression at times.  On the other hand, this word can also be used in a motivational/encouraging manner, which leads to some pretty hilarious anecdotes from confused Americans.  The best two stories I've heard was the marathon runner who thought all the spectators wanted him to "die," as he panted his way through 26+ miles, and the Jewish football coach (hired to teach Italians American football) who was greatly disturbed when the team captain started shouting "Dai giù!"(pronounced like "die jew") during push-up drills.  Of course, this was totally appropriate, since all it means something like "c'mon, get down!"  But, still, as a native English speaker, I think I'll try to stick with just plain "Dai" should I ever find myself in a similar situation.  

        

Awful "Mexican Food" (but with a lovely river view (river not pictured))

Five: You'd consider trading your left arm (or at least a finger or two) for just one meal of decent Mexican food.  I know I've complained about this before, but Tex-Mex just may be my favorite kind of food, and it's virtually non-existent here in Rome. Sure, you can try to cobble together your own version after hitting up no less than three separate stores (the regular grocery store, the foreign foods store (which sells salsa), and the only market (way across town) that sells cilantro).  But, at the end of the day, you still have to make do with mediocre (at best) avocados and whatever cheese you can find that's the least mozzarella-like (there's no cheddar or jack here).  But, sadly, trying to get your Tex-Mex fix at a Roman restaurant leads to even worse results. The last time I tried this, my "vegetarian burrito meal" consisted of a tiny tortilla completely filled with some sort of Italian white cheese and canned peppers, a side of canned black beans, and some plain white rice (which Italians seemed to think qualified as "Mexican rice" simply because it wasn't risotto).  Really, it completely baffles me that no ex-pats have opened a decent Tex-Mex joint because they'd make a total killing with all of the tourists and college students in town.  (No matter what you think, trust me, you can really only eat pasta and pizza for so many days before you start chasing after the smells of anything non-Italian like a stray dog.) Of course, my burrito standards might be a bit high after living in San Francisco for several years, but at this point, even Chipotle sounds like heaven!  Good thing there's one in Williamsburg (and it's right next to the Dairy Queen, in case you were wondering).  Ah, good ol' American fast-food chains, it only took a year apart to realize how much I really do need you.  

Alla Prossima,

Erin 

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Sun. June 30:  We're no longer freezing cold or sweltering hot.  We've settled into a nice moderate temperature pattern (highs in the low 80s), which hopefully will stick around for a while.