For Dave Mac
When in Rome...
from 
JoeUser Forums
JoeUser Forums
"Dave Mac" is short for "David McLaurin." He's a high school buddy of mine that asked about the lack of activity on my blog lately in a response to my previous entry "Are we virtual." I began to write him an email explaining what I've been up to, and as I wrote it I realized it was perfectly blog-worthy. Here 'tis verbatim:
Hey man
I haven't been going to my blog lately, but I just did (for no particular reason, (which is usually the reason)) and saw your comment. I figured I'd just email ya rather than respond there. In retrospect to what poured out of my fingers below, I'm going to copy and paste this to blog with a blurb in front explaining, as well.
Yes, we're in Naples, Italy now. There's a LONG transition involved because "convenience, " or the concept of such, has not yet entered this part of the world. It isn't that Italians don't want things to be convenient. It's that they don't judge convenience the same way we do. For them, convenience is being able to have something at ALL. It takes about a month to get anything better than dial-up internet here. That ADSL is available is a convenience to the Italians worthy of rejoicing. To us, having to wait a month is abominable. I'm with the Italians on this. After a month of dial-up, I'm happy to have ADSL at all
So, with these and other transitional set backs, inconveniences, and whatnot, you can imagine blogging hasn't been much on my mind. I HAVE had a few ideas, but they're unfortunately rather anti-american. Not anti-america, mind you, but anti-ameriCAN. Arguably the same thing. I suppose to correctly define my sentiment, it would be that I find "America" to be an ideal that "Americans" no longer have the intelligence, humility, or will to produce. I'm finding myself too often ashamed of my countryfolk. For instance...
A man was thrown off one of the transport shuttles that travel back and forth all day between the American installations here. Something many people do not know is that right now Italy has 40% unemployment, and so part of the agreement between our countries is that Italy allows us to have our bases, and we agree to hire X number of nationals. The American man was thrown off the bus for becoming violently disgruntled at the Italian bus driver (he struck the driver.) Apparently the American had asked if that bus went to a certain location, and the Italian, who spoke almost no English just said "Si." Which was true, although the destination was several hours later than the American had assumed. I see this kind of intolerance in the Americans here quite frequently. They don't seem to have realized that "Toto we're not in Kansas anymore."
There is one installation that we simply call the Support Site. It has government housing and other offices and stores (commisary, NEX, etc...) that are designed to provide services for members of the military who are stationed here. Walking its grounds is a wierd groove. It has the feel of fear, but not fear of some tangible thing...like mobs of gangsters rolling in with Tommy guns. No, this is the feel of fear of being discovered. My perception is that the people that live there want to pretend they aren't in Italy. They are building themselves a little American hole to hide in, and with the recent addition of a Walmart sized NEX and commisary and schools for the children, they can do their entire tours and almost never have to...well...to go to Italy. It's sad.
We live on the economy (as they say) in a town near the support site called Casal di Principe. It's just rumor, but I'm told it's very safe here. Very safe. Wink wink nudge nudge. As in if someone stole property here without express permission (from someone), they'd get broken legs and wear concrete galoshes, and all that other godfatherish stuff (likely including mobs of gangsters with Tommy guns). The town is protected, I'm saying.
I have to assume my landlord is connected, therefore, and I couldn't care less. He doesn't look at all like DeNiro or Pacino. He rocks anyway, and we love him and his family. He doesn't speak a lick of English, but we get along great. He gestures at stuff until I pretend to understand, and then the scene reverses. A week ago he brought us a couple of kilos of Mozzarella di Bufalo. Here in the Naples area is the best part of the world to get this marvelous cheese that is made from the milk of local Buffalos. They say it has something to do with the grass they eat. The Buffalos, that is. Anyhow, that's an expensive gift by Italian standards. He's a cool guy and very friendly. It's all about mutual respect here.
Driving is...unusual. I hear it's worse in Naples than anywhere. That's easy to believe. There are two speeds on the highway. Faster than light and slower than glass (for those who remember glass is a liquid). As a result, there needs to be much respect on the road...meaning, if you're in someone's way, get the hell out of it. Most blinders-wearing American drivers I have seen would be killed almost instantly. I commonly see a guy doing 150-160 kph riding 2 inches, literally, off the bumper in front of him. Get these people off the road and they'll happily wait all day long to take their next breath of air. Air is a convenience. Put them ON the road, and most of them can't go fast enough. It's a local enigma.
The food here is awesome...although I hear it gets old. There's only one kind of eating out food in Italy. Italian food. The restaurants are really just people's homes and you sort of show up out of nowhere (from their perspective) willing to pay for their food. I'm exagerrating a little, they do have menus, but that's the feel of all the places I've been to. Here, they look at you like you have two heads if you show up to eat before 9pm. Dinner is from 9pm until about 12am-1am. The table you sit at is yours for the night. I think the menus are for us. Meaning they'd just as soon you paid what you thought was fair, but they know we feel more comfortable with set prices. Often the menus have English translations, and I wish they didn't.
Well, Dave, there's a smattering of my impressions of Italian life from the eyes of an American sailor. All this and a new blog entry too. In your comment on my last blog you mentioned no activity and asked por quoi? I'd like to point out that "Why" in Italian is "perche." When in Rome, you know
Hey man
I haven't been going to my blog lately, but I just did (for no particular reason, (which is usually the reason)) and saw your comment. I figured I'd just email ya rather than respond there. In retrospect to what poured out of my fingers below, I'm going to copy and paste this to blog with a blurb in front explaining, as well.
Yes, we're in Naples, Italy now. There's a LONG transition involved because "convenience, " or the concept of such, has not yet entered this part of the world. It isn't that Italians don't want things to be convenient. It's that they don't judge convenience the same way we do. For them, convenience is being able to have something at ALL. It takes about a month to get anything better than dial-up internet here. That ADSL is available is a convenience to the Italians worthy of rejoicing. To us, having to wait a month is abominable. I'm with the Italians on this. After a month of dial-up, I'm happy to have ADSL at all
So, with these and other transitional set backs, inconveniences, and whatnot, you can imagine blogging hasn't been much on my mind. I HAVE had a few ideas, but they're unfortunately rather anti-american. Not anti-america, mind you, but anti-ameriCAN. Arguably the same thing. I suppose to correctly define my sentiment, it would be that I find "America" to be an ideal that "Americans" no longer have the intelligence, humility, or will to produce. I'm finding myself too often ashamed of my countryfolk. For instance...
A man was thrown off one of the transport shuttles that travel back and forth all day between the American installations here. Something many people do not know is that right now Italy has 40% unemployment, and so part of the agreement between our countries is that Italy allows us to have our bases, and we agree to hire X number of nationals. The American man was thrown off the bus for becoming violently disgruntled at the Italian bus driver (he struck the driver.) Apparently the American had asked if that bus went to a certain location, and the Italian, who spoke almost no English just said "Si." Which was true, although the destination was several hours later than the American had assumed. I see this kind of intolerance in the Americans here quite frequently. They don't seem to have realized that "Toto we're not in Kansas anymore."
There is one installation that we simply call the Support Site. It has government housing and other offices and stores (commisary, NEX, etc...) that are designed to provide services for members of the military who are stationed here. Walking its grounds is a wierd groove. It has the feel of fear, but not fear of some tangible thing...like mobs of gangsters rolling in with Tommy guns. No, this is the feel of fear of being discovered. My perception is that the people that live there want to pretend they aren't in Italy. They are building themselves a little American hole to hide in, and with the recent addition of a Walmart sized NEX and commisary and schools for the children, they can do their entire tours and almost never have to...well...to go to Italy. It's sad.
We live on the economy (as they say) in a town near the support site called Casal di Principe. It's just rumor, but I'm told it's very safe here. Very safe. Wink wink nudge nudge. As in if someone stole property here without express permission (from someone), they'd get broken legs and wear concrete galoshes, and all that other godfatherish stuff (likely including mobs of gangsters with Tommy guns). The town is protected, I'm saying.
I have to assume my landlord is connected, therefore, and I couldn't care less. He doesn't look at all like DeNiro or Pacino. He rocks anyway, and we love him and his family. He doesn't speak a lick of English, but we get along great. He gestures at stuff until I pretend to understand, and then the scene reverses. A week ago he brought us a couple of kilos of Mozzarella di Bufalo. Here in the Naples area is the best part of the world to get this marvelous cheese that is made from the milk of local Buffalos. They say it has something to do with the grass they eat. The Buffalos, that is. Anyhow, that's an expensive gift by Italian standards. He's a cool guy and very friendly. It's all about mutual respect here.
Driving is...unusual. I hear it's worse in Naples than anywhere. That's easy to believe. There are two speeds on the highway. Faster than light and slower than glass (for those who remember glass is a liquid). As a result, there needs to be much respect on the road...meaning, if you're in someone's way, get the hell out of it. Most blinders-wearing American drivers I have seen would be killed almost instantly. I commonly see a guy doing 150-160 kph riding 2 inches, literally, off the bumper in front of him. Get these people off the road and they'll happily wait all day long to take their next breath of air. Air is a convenience. Put them ON the road, and most of them can't go fast enough. It's a local enigma.
The food here is awesome...although I hear it gets old. There's only one kind of eating out food in Italy. Italian food. The restaurants are really just people's homes and you sort of show up out of nowhere (from their perspective) willing to pay for their food. I'm exagerrating a little, they do have menus, but that's the feel of all the places I've been to. Here, they look at you like you have two heads if you show up to eat before 9pm. Dinner is from 9pm until about 12am-1am. The table you sit at is yours for the night. I think the menus are for us. Meaning they'd just as soon you paid what you thought was fair, but they know we feel more comfortable with set prices. Often the menus have English translations, and I wish they didn't.
Well, Dave, there's a smattering of my impressions of Italian life from the eyes of an American sailor. All this and a new blog entry too. In your comment on my last blog you mentioned no activity and asked por quoi? I'd like to point out that "Why" in Italian is "perche." When in Rome, you know
