Friday, February 2, 2007

QuirkItaly

In Italy…
-Even vending machine coffee tastes good. (In fact, I have a cappuccino from the machine at school almost everyday.)
-Always push doors to go in and pull when you go out. (This does not make sense because one usually has bags in his/her hands on the way out. Also, it is against fire code in a lot of countries.) I have learned to push as a given and no longer look stupid every time I enter an establishment.
-People don't recycle, and it drives me crazy. I cringe each time I put a water bottle or cardboard in the trashcan. There must be some way to do it. I need to learn the Italian word for recycle, or I could just move to Germany. (I fell in love with Germany when I was 20 because of the color-coded recycling bins they have everywhere, that, and the garden gnomes.)

6 comments:

equincy said...

You are an early-morning blogger! Hope your project deadline went well today! Love--Mom!

aen said...

your blog is serving as a nice distraction for law student who should be writing a brief...hope all is going well with you, my friend.
mushaboom.

avalentine said...

I feel like we're going through the same things... you know, YOU in a foreign country, ME in the rural south (no recycling but plenty of gas station coffee TOO!)...

equincy said...

Do they have beer vending machines with Budweiser in them? Parm

Danyelle said...

I'm quite addicted to your blog now Trishee. I check it daily, several times, and am downcast when there are no new entries.

FastTrakStatus said...

i remember my first italian cappucino. it was at a truck stop somewhere between rome and castiglion fiorentino. {stop me if you've heard this one. no? cool.} anyway, just picture thirty five kids from kansas aimless wandering around, staring at displays of drinks, sandwhiches, and candy with odd labels and new colors, completely ensconsed in simultaneous wonder and bewilderment. our professors all ordered a cappucino. we followed suit, and possibly ordeded a tasty croissant as well.

needless to say, the silence that followed was not a result of our collective exhaustion, nor a function of our uncomfortable and new surroundings. no, it was because we had just tasted the finest cappucino of our entire lives; at a truck stop.