There are two stories in this post, the first of which relates to the title and the second of which is about food. So if you prefer to read about food, skip to part two.
Today, I set out from my house about 11:45 with the intention of hanging out on the Campo reading and people watching until about 12:45. I had 30 wonderful minutes of reading my Italian translation of the Hobbit happily before I was again disturbed by a "ciao" said somewhere near me. Yet again, I though that this person perhaps knew me. We met a lot of Italian people living with some of the students in the first few days here, and one time I accidentaly walked past one of them without saying hello despite that fact that he recognized me, so I now I am paranoid of unintentionally ignoring one of them.
This was not one of them though. It was another person. A guy, who decided my looking up and smiling a little instinctively (American habit) was an invitation to come and sit next to me. And ask me to come get a drink with him. Over and over and over again. It was a funny conversation and went something like this:
Him: what are you doing here?
Me: Reading a book. So you are a student?
Him: Yes, of medicine. Do you have something to drink?
Me: Yes, I have water because it is hot.
Him: Do you want to come get something to drink?
Me: No. I am reading my book. And I have water.
Him: Oh. Leave that and come get something to drink with me.
Me: No. After I read my book I have to go to school and meet my friends for lunch.
Him: Skip School and come have something to drink with me!
Me: No.
Him: Please? You can go to school tomorrow.
Me: No. I can't.
Him: Please?
Me: No.
And on.
Positive of the experience: I learned that I can fight off persistent Italian men such as him in their own language. I spoke only Italian. I also learned that the stereotype does in fact come from somewhere, although most of the men I have come across here have not been that way- the Italian roommates in the program are all very nice and I have had very little interaction with other people but for the most part we have all been left alone. I left as soon as I realized he wasn't going to leave. A bit of advice for the young Italian man: ask questions other than "do you want to get a drink with me" for a while. And don't beg like a five year-old. That's just pathetic.
This afternoon we want to the Tuscan Wine School for a wine tasting. That was really fun! We got to try five different types of Tuscan wines, learn how they are made, how you properly taste them, what they are typically paired with, how to describe the taste, and what makes them taste particular ways. It was very interesting! I liked all of the kinds I got to try except one, a dessert wine. It was so sweet! And, it was called Vinsanto. This is Italian for Wine Saint, or Saint of Wine. Other than this, we tried two red wines, and two white wines. And we got to eat Pecorino cheese. Pecorino cheese! If you want to be my best friend forever and ever, find me Pecorino cheese in the United States. This is the kind of cheese I fell in love with last week or the week before. And the olive oil and bread even was delicious, the oil was so good. And of course, after we finished this we had dinner with my family which was delicious as well. Tomatoes stuffed with seasoned rice and roasted, followed by salad and tuna with a homemade sauce...kind of? I don't quite know what to call it. It was a topping, I guess. And then, we ate the simple dessert which seems so obvious and yet which I have never thought of before.
We ate Ricotta cheese with marmalade or Nutella on it. They don't put ricotta in lasagne here, they eat it as dessert or on a few other things, but not with lasagna.
It was very delicious, and something I can easily bring back to the States!
