Friday, June 20, 2003

Italian Pants

Jackie and I ventured to Cityper (Macerata's version of a mall, complete with giant grocery) this afternoon. On the bus ride back, I tried to validate my ticket and inserted it upside down. The machine started beeping and flashing, confirming what our fellow passengers had already observed: this gal's not from here.

Unfortunately, it takes much less than an angry validating machine to signal my foreigness here. It's not that I'm trying to stick out - I just do. Comparing myself with Italians, answers to the question "Which of these things is not like the other?" would include a combination of (but not limited to): shoes, hair, expression, accent, sense of time, opinion on early 80s music, policy on showering, and height.

Height...during this visit to Italia, I'm surprised to find pants that actually fit me. They're actually long enough! I may not know how to validate my ticket, but the short guy on the bus had to have his mom hem his jeans. Although, I suppose genetics doesn't have much to do with cultural assimilation.



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