A strong grip and a wary eye

Sunday evening here now, the end of my lovely break. Ran into Stephanie on the street while waiting for the bus today. Wonderful to see her of course and she has a lovely tan going after three months in Greece. I'm becoming slightly off-white, but that is the most I can expect.

Oh, and to whomever composed the Grape Nuts haiku following my last post, that will definitely get recited in our meeting tomorrow. Now that's MY kind of poetry!

I enjoy passing restaurants that advertise their Rick Steves approval. I feel like they owe me a free drink or something because of Rick and my shared Edmonds residence. I suppose he really must be the most famous man from Edmonds, for what that's worth.

Other reminders of home: Last night the Italian MTV channel played the video for “Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)” by The Arcade Fire, a great video I must say. Not that the Arcade Fire have anything to do with Seattle, but I was on their bandwagon early so it is interesting that they are now cracking the Italian mainstream.

Today I saw an Italian man wearing a Supersuckers shirt. For those who don’t know, the Supersuckers are a very small-time country/punk band from the Emerald City. I should have shouted “Eddie Spaghetti!” (the lead singer’s name) and seen if I got a reaction. Maybe anyone with the name Spaghetti has a big following in Rome. tee hee.

I recently decided to really wave my American flag by going to the local McDonald’s for the first time. I then paid tribute to Pulp Fiction by ordering the McRoyal with cheese. However, I did not then proceed with John Travolta to murder Brett and his friends while shouting Bible verses. While I was sitting in the restaurant, a girl of maybe five came up to me holding up an egg-ish toy. Here in Rome, little gypsy children are some of the biggest con artists of all. I once saw a man violently throw three sniggering kids from the subway (before it had started moving), someone later explaining that they were pickpockets. Or they are tools of their conning moms and pops, like the man who always comes around restaurants in our neighborhood playing guitar while his tiny daughter sullenly belly dances in a circle next to him, then goes around to the tables pulling on sleeves and asking for money. My dad made me mow the lawn, but at least he didn’t make me dance around the mower on the street corner to support our family. But the point is that when this bright-eyed child cautiously approached me holding up the egg, I regarded her with suspicion I usually only reserve for……well, I can’t think of any situations in America where I’m so guarded against people. At least with Ave rats you know where they stand. So I tried to shoo her away, saying “No grazie” and quickly looking back to my book. But she persisted and held it up again. “You just want me to open it?” I said finally. She nodded. So, still feeling I was somehow being hoodwinked—like it would burst open and I would have unwittingly been forced to accept whatever was inside, for five euro—I pulled it apart. She lit up, took it and ran over to another table where she waved it to someone out of my sight, just a mother with a weak grip I suppose. It was only her happy meal toy. And it made me thoroughly disgusted with Rome for making me regard this little girl with such scorn. At least to the American sucker, people are guilty until proven innocent here.