I had a really nice day exploring Sala Baganza. I went to the bar and discovered an impressive tour guide in Marco. (He, like many of Sala Baganza, has lived here all of his life). We walked around and he bought me my first taste of gelato. (The gelato is very creamy and there is a strange selection of flavors, like sour cherry and nutella and … other Italian words).
I am so glad to have friends! And the bar in which Marco, Luca, and Loridonna (their mom) work is right near Fillipo’s school. So after I drop him off, I just go hang out there for a while, study, chat. It’ll be like my Italian Donkey (Athens coffee house). Furthermore, a lot of kids hang out there, so I could just take Fillipo with me!
Because Sala Baganza is such a small town (around 4,500 pop.), everywhere I went people were looking at me. A surprisingly large percentage already knew who I was. And as fun as it is to meet knew people, it’s exhausting struggling to express myself and looking foolish. And though a smile is universal language, my face is pooped.
I’m watching an Italian beauty pageant. Italian tv makes no pretenses – you get direct shots of the busts and buttocks. Why am I still watching then? Because I am so amused by the Abba soundtrack. Super Trooper, lights are gonna find me....
Worth note is the fact that I haven’t felt self-conscious a bit. The Italians are a beautiful, slender, fashionable people; yet, I don’t feel big or bland or anything. I think that in Italy I feel more allowed just to be me, because I am allowed to be different than the Italians (since I’m not Italian. Are you following my logic?). Now, I know this is true in any country (Be Yourself, the after-school specials cry), but I had to struggle for that level of comfort in my own society. I blame the media. Stupid media.
On the subject of appearances, I’m very aware that I am constantly representing someone while in this country. In general, I represent the US; in town, I represent my host family. I’m not sure how I feel about my constant awareness and even the negligible amounts of pressure – in a perfect world, I would have only to represent myself, right?
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