(no subject)
RIGHT NOW I FEEL DISCONNECTED from my generation. I don't know anyone in Italy my own age, so I've spent the last week in the company of my parents and their friends. Dinners at restaurants, wines, various tantalizing Italian foods, and taking pictures of landmarks have been the staples of my days. I shouldnt complain. I find myself staring creepily at groups of people my own age. I don't know anyone here.
One night I went out to the square where the young people hang, they sit and talk and drink and smoke cigarettes. I spent twenty minutes walking around the bazaar, listening for voices that spoke English. I found none; all the rhythm and cadence of a language I speak hardly three words of. I took a break to buy a beer at a bar on the corner. I heard these two girls talking in English. I tried to work up the courage to go talk to them, but I suppose the courage wasn't there. I went back to my room and called it an early night. I've had quite a few of those here.
The news says its raining in Washington D.C.. At first my dad talked about how good the water would be for his tomato plants in the backyard, but when we started hearing about floods and three people dying in Frederick, the garden talk faded away. The international weatherman said it might clear up on Friday.
I didn't like Lost in Translation much the first time I saw it, but maybe I could appeciate it more fully now.
One small upside of the trip comes from fortunate timing: Italy is still a World Cup contender as of the time I'm writing this, and I've gotten to watch both of the games (Italy vs. Czech and vs. Australia) in sports bars and have been rewarded with two wins. I don't know if you saw the Australia game or not, but it ended with a spectacular last second penalty kick to give Italy the win. Imagine you are at a small bar ten feet from the sand of the beach with a tiny television and about a hundred and twenty people crowded around it, fans spilling out almost all the way to the sand, many wearing the blue jerseys of the home team. It all comes down to a last second, Disney movie climactic finish. The ball goes in, Totti scores, everyone in the bar helps everyone else in the bar becomes half deaf with glee. That was what it was like.
One night I went out to the square where the young people hang, they sit and talk and drink and smoke cigarettes. I spent twenty minutes walking around the bazaar, listening for voices that spoke English. I found none; all the rhythm and cadence of a language I speak hardly three words of. I took a break to buy a beer at a bar on the corner. I heard these two girls talking in English. I tried to work up the courage to go talk to them, but I suppose the courage wasn't there. I went back to my room and called it an early night. I've had quite a few of those here.
The news says its raining in Washington D.C.. At first my dad talked about how good the water would be for his tomato plants in the backyard, but when we started hearing about floods and three people dying in Frederick, the garden talk faded away. The international weatherman said it might clear up on Friday.
I didn't like Lost in Translation much the first time I saw it, but maybe I could appeciate it more fully now.
One small upside of the trip comes from fortunate timing: Italy is still a World Cup contender as of the time I'm writing this, and I've gotten to watch both of the games (Italy vs. Czech and vs. Australia) in sports bars and have been rewarded with two wins. I don't know if you saw the Australia game or not, but it ended with a spectacular last second penalty kick to give Italy the win. Imagine you are at a small bar ten feet from the sand of the beach with a tiny television and about a hundred and twenty people crowded around it, fans spilling out almost all the way to the sand, many wearing the blue jerseys of the home team. It all comes down to a last second, Disney movie climactic finish. The ball goes in, Totti scores, everyone in the bar helps everyone else in the bar becomes half deaf with glee. That was what it was like.