A Walk in Rome
I went for a walk in Rome today, because you never know what you might find in a city like this. I crossed the Tiber, whose now calm waters whisper historical reminders to… Continue reading
Tag Archive: Italy
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Feeling fine and Florentine
“The Tuscan Frying Pan,” Florence was earning its title that day, certified in sweat dripping down the backs and sides of tourists squinting in the Piazza della Signoria, and my hair felt, again,… Continue reading
Patagonia? Nepal? Justin Bieber?
Italy gives 18 year olds 500 euros (~$540) for “cultural activities.” Museums, monuments, or sure, Justin Bieber concerts. With youth unemployment around 40% and a political system that doesn’t seem to give a merda about… Continue reading
The Wizard of Oz and I
“When I was a boy, I knew what I wanted to be.” My assumption was beginning when he filled in the answer. “A cowboy!”
The Wizard of Oz is Italian
The Wizard of Oz doesn’t let you take pictures. Looking around his close-shouldered toyscape of fragile wooden forms and clustered vintage artefacts, that was understandable. Besides, I already had enough photos from outside,… Continue reading
Was Mussolini really that bad?
Benito Mussolini helped lead Europe into one of the darkest chapters of its violent history. We already know this. But is there more to the story than that? Finding myself on the shores… Continue reading
I’m naked, with special guest: Benito Mussolini
“Mi scusi” is Italian for “Excuse me.” You might hear it when someone interrupts, or steps on your foot, or when the maid opens the door to your hotel room without knocking, two… Continue reading
Community of strangers, on one last night in Rome
They have a community, these men. They have formed a new edition of an ancient tradition, society’s subtext of foreigners who do not pertain, but belong anyway.
I’m thankful for grandma’s bloomers
The Italian Grandma next door is hanging her bloomers on the laundry line, the clouds are preposterously beautiful in painting-perfect colors and curves, and I am delighted that I didn’t have to sleep… Continue reading
On the right bus, in Florence
“The Tuscan Frying Pan” had been in fine frying form all week, but at 8:00 AM the air was the sort of warmthy and goldeny and pillowy that makes so many people write… Continue reading
