I met my new friend Vincenzo at Black Market in Monti – a MUST go to bar, if you feel like hitting a spot with a perfect mix of tourist and locals. We were standing in line for the apertivo, about to put some pasta on our plates when out of nowhere they bring a tray with a mountain of rice still holding the shape of whatever dish it was cooked in.
I gave him a look that let him sense my skepticism and scooped up some rice and dumped it on his plate instead.
“…This is the worst rice I’ve ever had.”
We’ve been friends ever since.
This is what he’s taught me so far:
1. “To be an italian you must talk with your hands, at first you might break everything on the table.”
2. H: “Why do I get harassed so often on the street?”
V: “You must dye your hair black. Blonde in Italy is like red for a bull.”
3. V: “You should come visit me at Galleria Borghese”
H: “It’s sooo far.”
*Walking to the cafe next door*
V: “Should we take a cab, hannah?”
4. H: *orders a cappuccino*
V: “Are you sure this is big enough? I know in America you drink 10 of these in one cup”
5. “Princess, the Italian don’t drink cappuccino after lunch.”
6. “Gelato= Sun. Cappuccino= breakfast. You are confused.”
7.”Tourists come and order latte, so I give them latte. Latte is a cup of hot milk. Why do they think they will get caffe latte if they don’t ask for caffe latte?”
xx hannah jane.