Be Italian!

It has happened again, that my travels have led me to another beautiful city full of things that Becca and I had no idea what we were looking at until we broke down and finally bought a guide book to inform us.

The most fascinating stories I suppose come as always from the people we meet

-the group of Romanians who bought us drinks the first night

-the twins from California who upon hearing we were Peace Corps volunteers spent the rest of the night saluting us whenever they saw us

-our couchsurfing hosts who taught Becca how to dance using her whole body

- the nice man who helped me find a church and turned out to be Romanian and wanted me to stay with him for free the rest of the summer so he could cook for me, (english, romanian translation)

--Can I help you?

---Yes, I’m looking for this church to meet my friends.

--You go here? It’s on the way to my store come with me, I know. Sorry I don’t speak much English. Italiano?

---Romana?

----You’re Romanian??? I am from Craiova!!!

-----No, I’m not Romanian I teach there for the past year

---- Oh what luck, how long will you be in Rome?

----I leave today actually (first attempt to leave)

------Oh no, you cannot you must come stay with me for the summer! I will not charge you anything, you must come back to Rome its only 40 Euros, and I will cook for you all summer. It’s such a pity you should leave this day. Come to my restaurant tonight for dinner, bring you’re colleagues.

----Ha I’m sorry but I have a plane at 7, but it was nice to meet you. (second attempt)

-----No its too sad, I will come to Romania in December you must meet me there, its so wonderful to meet an American who speaks such nice Romanian. I will tell my mother about you, though she will not believe me

- meeting up with long lost pen pal friends (congratulations on the engagement again greg!)

-going on possibly my first date ever with a guy that took me to the beach, dinner, and for a rain soaked run to get gelato.

-helping out the Spanish girls trying to go to st.peters by selling them our scarves so they could get in (you to have thighs and shoulders covered we come to find out) (this is also where they hide all the cuties and try to disguise them I funny clown-like suits and where we solidified our ticket to hell for thinking impure thoughts at the most famous church in the world)

Other adventures include running through train stations trying to find our bus to the airport, then running through the bus station, then getting stuck in traffic, being laughed at by the customs officer as we stood panting at his booth because we thought we would miss our plane, and then finally amusing the man in our row on the plane by listing as many four letter words we could from A to Z that could be taken in a dirty way (childish yes, but entertaining nonetheless) the final scurry to a taxi that would not rob us blind with a fee and convincing the poor kid at the hotel to give us a room without a reservation brought our trip to a close