So, I’m currently in the process of reflecting on the past 10 days of vacation. And I type this reflection to you from my bed which means, yes readers, I have finally found the solution to my internet problem. Thank you, Nathan Eberhart…and SFR. But mostly Nathan Eberhart. Anyway, my meandering thoughts brought me to one of my favorite moments in the Italy Extravaganza: the oinking 60+ year old man at the Vatican. As we 6 Americans thoroughly enjoyed our gelatos (and crepe) a little old man hobbled over, peered at us over his tortoise brimmed, oversized bifocals and then started snorting at us. Yes, I’m serious. And this wasn’t just any snort – for those of you who have heard me laugh, you know that’s saying something. Picture the most horrendous noise that you can think of, a mix of week 3 of a never ending cold/stuffy nose and Shakira’s voice when she does that tribal thing in “Whereever, Whenever.” It was absolutely, for no better word, gross! At first, we just stood there confused. Tongues poised for the next lick, the snorting noise came again – this time louder and with a vengeance. It reached our ears as the cherry and chocolate met on my taste buds. We all stopped – incredulous. Was he snorting at us!? Now, keep in mind that all of us are studying in France and, the French have a habit of commenting on those who take their food, snacks and – worst of all for me – coffees, to go. Thus, it’s not uncommon for us to overhear a “bon appetit” as we walk through the street eating our freshly prepped and bought sandwiches from the Greek stand just 5 minutes away from school. Hey, we’re busy! Still, in all of the snide remarks thrown my way by my host-countrymen, never had I encountered such a way to say “hey, Americans, get a table!”
Dana’s first response, of course: “Guys, he’s calling us fat.” And considering the amounts of pasta and gelato consumed by us on a daily basis, it was a possibility. Maybe he saw the mounds of ice cream and saw it as his window of opportunity to live us to the “Mean Old Man” stereotype. Maybe he was envious but had forgotten his wallet at home and thus, had to remain gelato-less for the afternoon. Maybe..who the hell knows. Regardless, I can say I’ve been oinked at in one of the holiest places in the world. AND that gelato was some of the best I’ve ever had. So take that Evil Oinking Man! I’m sure my reflections will breed more stories later, but my newly acquired Internet just seems to keep navigating to Ch131.com and the 3rd episode of Gossip Girl. I can’t fight with it so early in our relationship, so I should probably suck it up and watch some more absolutely horrible, but totally guilty pleasure TV. *sigh of satisfaction* Finally.