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What Not to Wear in Rome as a Tourist

8 Jun

Affectionately subtitled: Super Sexy Tourist Attire

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So, fate had it that I had to run a quick errand near the Colosseum metro stop the other morning. While waiting for my friend to arrive so I could drop off some things I needed to give him, I sat down in the small circular piazza above the metro stop, and realized I had placed myself at exactly ground zero for a super-mega tour group staging point. Like you know when a cruise unleashes like 200 people and they all divide into color-coded stickered groups of 20? Hashtag #scary. And yet, at the same time, a super fun sort of sociological anthropological experiment in tourist observation. My ethnographic notes for you are thus:

1. Americans love to ask each other “Where are you from?” It ties us together. I witnessed the most brilliant exchange. Two twenty-something young married couples start off chit-chatting, and, after the famous “Where are you from?” end up not only discovering that they live like the next town over from each other, but that they have friends who went to the same high school, and that they’re all four flying back on the same flight. Oh, love.

2. Two is the photo above. Why black short socks with loafers and shorts? I don’t know. I just cannot get on board with this look.

3. Waiting for a friend in front of the Colosseum is fabulous, no matter how many years you live in this city. It just simply never gets old. Never.

My title is a bit misleading because I don’t really have any exciting content for tourists looking for fashion tips. I’ve lived in Rome for too long and I’m far too cynical for that.

But, well, now I’m feeling a bit guilty, see, so, ok, fine. Here you go. My top PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DON’T DO THIS because it’s just basically super gag-worthy for those of us who live here (oh now, calm down, you don’t need to go into the comments and berate me for being snobby and opinionated. You won’t be telling me anything I don’t already know, so save your typing for comments on Perez Hilton’s blog instead.)

1. These:

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No, seriously. 20-something college girls walk around the city in these, and for the life of me, at the risk of sounding like an old, prudish granny, I ask myself: what is the appropriate environment for wearing these shorts? Because I think they are pajamas but I could be mistaken. I’m sure they’re entirely appropriate attire on college campuses across the US. But frankly in front of a centuries-old church, they just look … [adjective]. See how fun I am on my blog? I let you play Mad Libs!

2. These:

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Hey, come in really close, I want to tell you a secret. Do you know what Italians call American kids they see walking around the Eternal City in $2 Old Navy plastic and foam flip flops? They call them “piedi neri,” black feet. Want to know why? Because, as I’m sure you’ve discovered if you’ve ever walked around the Eternal City in flip flops, it takes but a minute for the bottoms of your feet (and probably the tops, too) to become totally and completely black. It’s the truth. This city is dirty and you should not be walking around it in shower shoes. Just saying.

Oh, and BTW, attenzione Italian language enthusiasts: a reader of mine going by the name of Emanuele who lives in Boston wrote a variation on my 51 Things I’ve Learned in Italy and wrote it in Italian, Le 70 Cose Che Noi Italiani Abbiamo Imparato in USA…because I guess he had to show me up and add like, twenty extras. And I’ll have you note that right there, hanging out at number twenty-three, is this: “23 – I sandali infradito, le cosiddette Flip-Flop, sono il culto pop di ogni donna americana al pari degli zoccoli di legno per le casalinghe italiane.” Which translates exactly to: “Flip flops are the cult classic shoes of every American woman, the equivalent of the wooden clogs for Italian housewives.” Whaa? Wooden clogs? What are these of which you speak? Maybe he’s talking about the Dr. Scholl’s they sell in like every single Italian pharmacy. How weird is that? Oh and just another lil’ BTW for y’all: don’t screw up saying zoccoli by accidentally saying zoccole. Just—don’t. Why? Because when you put that into Google Translator, and Google Translator gives you “hoes,” I can assure you that Google Translator is not referring to a garden implement. That is all.

3. This:

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Actually has nothing to do with anything. Hell, “touristes” isn’t even Italian, for the love of God! What kind of blog is this, anyways? I just thought it was awesome that someone found the need for a sign forbidding tourists to walk around in a jock strap. Good times. Kind of reminds me of this.

Oh, people. This is what I’m reduced to, in lieu of a hot date on a Saturday night. I tell you what. Taking one for the team. You can thank me later.

Oh yeah. One last one. Call it 3a. This:

Ew.

Trust me: puke and broken glass is not a good look on you.

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Help Prevent Closure of Roman Pediatric Neuropsychiatry Support Center “Il Grande Cocomero”

30 May

I received an email to sign a petition with Change.org today regarding an association that I had no knowledge of. Il Grande Cocomero is a volunteer-run and donation-supported center for research and treatment in the field of children’s psychiatric health. Il Grande Cocomero literally translates to “The Big Watermelon” , but actually is known as “The Great Pumpkin” of Charlie Brown fame, and refers to a movie based on the experiences and innovative approaches of pediatric neuropsychiatrist Marco Lombardo Radice. Now Il Grande Cocomero is in danger of closing because the City of Rome is taking legal action to evict the volunteers. Here is their appeal, which I have translated from the homepage of their website here into English:

The City of Rome is demanding a monthly rent payment which Il Grande Cocomero cannot sustain: €665 a month, up from the €172 paid up until now, with overdue payments of more than €39,000!

Il Grande Cocomero is kept open thanks to unpaid volunteers and small donations.

In the last 10 years we have proposed various technical-economic solutions and have received various empty promises, in addition to the usual “face-saving” acknowlegements.

Now Mayor Alemanno has decided to close Il Grande Cocomero and put an end to a 20-year service.

In more than 20 years of operation, Il Grande Cocomero has been the rehabilitation center for the children in the care of the Neuropsychiatric Ward of the Policlinico Umberto I Hospital, and it has been a social and recreational center for the adolescents of the San Lorenzo neighborhood, a place for free and uninhibited expression of the fragility and creativity inherent in the world of adolescents…and as a response to this, the City has decided to take legal action!

The volunteers, the adolescents, and the entire San Lorenzo neighborhood, in this way, are being violently attacked by a city government that is completely out of touch with the needs of the very areas that it governs.

Closing Il Grande Cocomero will certainly open up a very desirable piece of real estate that the City can offer for a very financially advantageous amount of rent to a restaurant, a night club, or a gaming hall!

We ask solidarity from all of the friends of Il Grande Cocomero, and a strong show of public support on the part of all political forces, against this latest attack on places of child welfare and social assistance.

Interestingly enough, while I was unable to find any official response from the City of Rome or the mayor to this issue, and while I was unable to find any information regarding the history of this dispute, I did find a statement from mayor-elect Marino, just two days prior to last weekend’s mayoral election. In it, he stated “To the children, the volunteers and the workers of Il Grande Cocomero, we can say that for us, for our idea of this city, their experience is an added value that needs to be defended and protected, not a bureaucratic procedure to be used to fill the City coffers.” Let’s hope that this wasn’t merely political rhetoric to be used for electoral gain, although I’m sadly skeptical.

Please join me in signing this petition. I can tell you after living in Rome for nearly 13 years, and coming from a background in social work apprenticeship in state child welfare in the US (I almost completed my MSW but then moved back to Rome in my last year of the program): places of refuge and healing for children with mental health issues are sorely lacking everywhere, but especially in places like Rome, where awareness of mental health issues is not only shamefully absent, but actually still a socially unacceptable taboo that brands those affected with crippling stigma and lack of access to services.

Sign the petition for Il Grande Cocomero at this link through Change.org. You don’t need to speak Italian to support this initiative, “sign” is “firma” and I hope that those outside of Italy are able to access and support this initiative.

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Well, Hello There Number Eight!

29 May

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Yep: there you have it, folks.

Photographic proof that the 8 tram is now running up and down Via delle Botteghe Oscure. There are a bunch of new stoplights so people can cross the 3 steps across some of the side-roads, too.

It’s all good fun. They’re in “collaudo” mode which is like “testing, testing, 1, 2, 3.”

Plus let me tell you, I was not the only one taking pictures today. I might be weird—no, I am definitely weird, and tend to take pictures of totally random things—but clearly I’m not the only one who thinks it’s strange seeing good ol’ number 8 heading towards Piazza Venezia.

And now, in other completely unrelated news: just walking by the BNL bank, minding my own business, and I’m forced to ask myself, and now you all as well: WTF does “contactless” mean? Things that make you go hmmm…

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It’s glucose-6-phosphate dehydrogenase deficiency season in Rome

24 May

It is!

See, that’s why you read my blog. So you can get the medical education you missed out on.

No, seriously. This is something I hadn’t ever heard of until I moved here. Every year, right around the end of April/beginning of May, you’ll start seeing signs printed out in Word and taped to grocery store entrances, that look sort of like this:

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Yes, indeed, my dear friends, you always know fava beans are back in stores when the stores begin to post warnings about it. That’s so people with glucose-6-phosphate dehydrogenase deficiency—that’s favism to you and me (an X-linked recessive hereditary disease, for all you Mendel’s square people out there)—can be forewarned and therefore forearmed. But don’t take it from me, take it from Wikipedia:

G6PD deficiency is closely linked to favism, a disorder characterized by a hemolytic reaction to consumption of broad beans, with a name derived from the Italian name of the broad bean (fava).

I’m not going to make fun of favismo. That would be rude, insensitive, and just downright wrong. I’m not here to make light of a genetic disease. I am simply an observer whose birthday is May 1 and therefore has a particularly strong link to fava beans.

So if anyone ever asks you before you reach for that ginormous green bean, “Ma non hai favismo, vero?” you can respond, “Beh, in realtà si chiama carenza di glucosio-6-fosfato deidrogenasi, ma comunque grazie, no.”

You can thank me later. Oh and BTW, don’t forget the pecorino romano. xoxo

Oh Gawd. Please warn the pretty people in L.A. about favism, will you?

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Would You Like to Have Them Like This?

16 May

Ok, folks. Here we go. I don’t know what’s going to be more graphic about this post. The fact that I actually have to type the word “pantiliner” (cringe) or the fact that I have to subject you to a pair of boobies that are inflated to bursting capacity with the excruciatingly awful headline: “Would you like to have them like this? I’ll pay for them!”

Lord, have mercy on my soul.

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This is NOT what I wanted to see as I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes this morning and opened this brand new box of feminine end-of-monthly-cycle (also known in Italy mysteriously as “my things” – le mie cose) protection product.

Now, this brings to mind how I could probably write an entire post questioning the etymology of why menstruation in Italian is referred to as “my things” and how it’s possible that a woman can simply say Mi sono arrivate as in, “They’ve come to me” and that is like some weird code phrase that really means “I have my period.” However, I will leave that for another titillating future adventure. Because, no. Today I really want to ask my faithful public how it is possible that Velluto Salvaslip (Velvet? Really? Who was the marketing genius that green-lighted that brand name, BTW?) is running a sweepstakes in which the lucky winner will receive €6,000 for their “new look” a.k.a. as listed in the ad “breasts – butt – nose – lips – tummy”

HOLY EFFING SHIT, people. I mean, pardon my French, but are you effing kidding me? Wow. I didn’t know that we had reached this level of terrifying superficiality around here. No, seriously. The blood is running cold in my veins.

“Just send in 3 barcodes to participate in the drawing.*”

*see complete rules at www. sweetwipes. com

OHMYGOD. What’s worse? The fact that I have to read through rules about a plastic surgery sweepstakes? Or the gag factor inherent in the fact that there’s a website out there called SWEET WIPES DOT COM?

Oh Mary mother of God, pray for our sins.

I’ll try to type in sweetwipes.com without breaking into a fit of uncontrollable creepy laughter. Ok…I’m going in. Cover me.

NOOOOOO!

No.

No, no, a million times NO! Why didja have to go and show a half nekkid buxom woman with yellow dotted lines drawn on her plastically modified body?

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“Would you like to have a body like this? I’ll pay for it!”

Oh, look! On the website they helpfully add that you could also have your hips or eyes “remodeled.”

In the fine print it says if you don’t opt for the plastic surgery you could use the €6,000 in “beauty treatments.” Whatever that might mean. Frankly I don’t have the patience or the inclination to read through the entire downloadable PDF file of contest rules and regulations.

Let me just leave you with this, incidentally, that I found while browsing vintage ads today, which happens to be one of my many Internet time-wasters hobbies. (I graduated with a degree in advertising. Yes, they issue those.) Lest we forget that the stick-thin body wasn’t always the ideal of beauty, check out this post that reveals how vintage ads encouraged weight gain and curvy figures.

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But: sweet wipes.

Seriously, folks. You think you’ve seen it all, and then you get a website called sweetwipes.com.

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Roman-style Security System

16 May

Walking by an apartment building around the corner from my house this morning, I see this sign generated in Word, printed out and taped to the front entry gate:

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Note – Don’t close. Door broken.

Are you so loving this?

Why didn’t they just write: “Dear Criminals: Our building’s front door is broken, and for unknown reasons we aren’t getting it fixed, at least not anytime soon, so instead we’ve printed out this sign instructing all residents to kindly leave the door open for you. You’re welcome.”

Oh, sigh. Rome, you’re so silly sometimes.

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Tram 8 Depot Moves to Piazza Venezia

9 May

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You do realize that someone actually got hired and paid to design a logo for this, do you not? The mind boggles.

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Subtitled: The shitshow formerly known as Largo Argentina/Via Florida/Via della Botteghe Oscure

I swear to God, the passage is so limited crossing Via delle Botteghe Oscure now, that there was this American middle-aged couple last week that caused a major scene. Husband, overweight and majorly grumpy, starts yelling at the TOP OF HIS LUNGS (because clearly the entire area is cordoned off by metal fencing and frankly it’s confusing even for us locals to figure out how to cross the damn street now… they’ve even placed traffic cops with whistles there to help people figure it out) “I DON’T KNOW WHAT THEY’RE FUC£$(£) DOING HERE! I’M TRYING MY BEST! YOU’RE NOT DOING ANYTHING!” Poor wife. So embarrassed. All the locals nearby start staring. (Who’s the jackass yelling at his wife?!) The traffic cop lady starts blowing on her whistle like our lives depended on it. A local points to the couple. The lady traffic cop goes “SO?!!? Move it! He can scream as much as he wants!”

Oh, Rome, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

So, Largo Argentina is my stomping grounds. (I really just wanted an excuse to say stomping grounds. That’s fun.) I’ve always worked around this piazza and am happy to say so, because clearly I love this square. The gelato. The coffee. The coffee again. And again. The pizza. The theater. The dude named Amadeo who draws chalk murals on the sidewalk, and even merited a Part 2, for God’s sake! Let’s face it folks: I can’t get enough of this place.

By now, unless you’ve been living under a rock, or Roma Nord, you’ve probably noticed that all hell has broken loose around Largo Argentina, due to the expansion of the 8 tram to Piazza Venezia.

Yes, you read me right: ATAC, or rather should I say Mayor Alemanno and his crew, a.k.a. la giunta, decided to extend the 8 line basically THREE BLOCKS. Isn’t that how far 450 meters is? I can’t find any explanation as to why, except that apparently the original plan was to get the 8 tram to head up Via Nazionale and on over to Termini, which is where the 40 Express bus takes people. See, now, that would have been nice. So, I’m a bit confused about the whole thing, but then again, what isn’t confusing around here when it comes to city politics? (Note: mayoral elections coming up at end of month! Brace yourselves! What’s that, you say? Already accusations of corrupted vote-buying? Oh, stop it now! Not here!)

Instead, we get the depot moved a few blocks over to Piazza Venezia, where mystical fortune tellers the city says that it will provide a connection to the much-ballyhooed Metro C.

Shall we go there?

You see, my friends, the Metro C is like a desert mirage. You believe it’s real, you see the signs that say behind there, work is taking place, archaeological investigations, whatnot. But no matter how far along you go, it never really appears. 2020, here we come! It’s only eight years away. Miracles can still happen.

Although I will give kudos to Metro B1. That is so Roman. Three extra stops, took SEVEN years. Seven. I’m not shitting you. (Pssst, come close! Did you know that there’s even a Metro D that’s been planned? Stop laughing! It’s not funny! Ok, they abandoned that folly last year. But still…)

Anyhoo, what does this exciting construction project that’s been going on for nearly a year now, bring us good citizens of Rome? Well, lots of noise, for starters. And a whole hell of a lot of traffic congestion. And confused bus riders who can’t tell from which day to the next where their bus stop is going to be moved to.

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But, look! Lookie here! I see three benches, too!

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Ok, fine, so they’re fenced off. What of it? The point is that they made the effort. And one day, those benches are going to serve an important purpose, I feel certain of that.

I dunno, folks. They talk about this exciting new “pedestrian area” in front of the theater, and I’m like, and? What are we going to do with a cement paved area in front of a whole lot of nothing? With no shade, no benches, and no worthwhile shops or services to speak of? I mean, they just paved over the old tracks where the 8 used to turn around to go back the other direction. BOH.

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It’s fun to complain, though. Complaining, bitching and moaning, free expression of totally unsolicited opinions: it’s all good sport around here. Love it!

So I just thought I’d throw in my two cents.

If traffic is an issue, why don’t we just use more of the city’s Bikesharing program?

Hey! Now that’s an idea! Now we’ve got our thinking caps on!

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Oops, never mind.

But, who cares, really? We’re in Rome! Let them eat gelato! I was so confused by the construction fences they’d set up the other day around my office, that I had to go back the other way as one end of my street was completely closed off. After this crazy detour, I found myself, oops, coincidence of coincidences, near enough to Gelateria Corona to just “pop in.” Holy CRAP. People! They have honey with chili pepper (HELLO!) and licorice with raspberry. Get on over there!

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