Verde

My most frivolous purchase from Ikea was a tiny green circular rug, but it has now become an indispensable item in our household. I didn’t like the dot in my room, so I moved it to the hallway. Later that day I was in the hallway, standing on the rug, singing a song to Sylvana (that she and I made up). That’s when I announced that the rug would be the apartment spotlight…"stand on the rug and entertain us." Dance, sing, recite a poem…we don’t care…it’s an opportunity to have the floor. Sylvana and I often get silly ideas like this, and we are happy that Pete has come to embrace most of them.

The other night Sylvana decided to get out her flamenco shoes, which she brought to Milan with hopes of getting into a flamenco class here. Flamenco shoes are made for stomping and have small metal taps on the toe and heel. She put them on and went into hallway, which has a marble floor. She began dancing with a fervor, and I followed suit, tap-dancing in my socks alongside her. We were lost in the world of hyperactivity, with no regard for the world around us.

After two minutes of crazed motion, there was a not-so-gentle knock on our door. (Oh, yeah, we have neighbors. We must have forgotten.) Sylvana fled to her bedroom and made me answer the door. I stood there as the man from downstairs chewed me out in Italian. I’m not sure all he said…something about no dancing and other words that were accompanied by a lot of finger wagging. I agreed with him and apologized. Of course, my agreement was only to not dance in flamenco shoes. (Sock tap is still okay, right?)

It doesn’t hurt as much to be chewed out in another language. Italian is a passionate language, but I can’t read anything into the words that I can’t understand. It also doesn’t affect me as much to be cat-called by Italian men. I don’t know half what they’re saying so it doesn’t get into my brain and make me feel unsafe or objectified. On the other hand, the supermarket clerk yelling down the aisle that the place is closing seems to sting quite a bit. This I do not understand.

My classmate Maria was asking me yesterday about my experience with men here. She said I must get a lot of attention with my light hair and light eyes. (Coincidently Maria is an Australian with Egyptian and Cypriot heritage and would be considered very exotic in the US.) I told her there is attention, but I’m pretty good at being oblivious to it. I told her that a couple of guys at school have shown an interest in me, one of which told me in a conversation that he would “Die to go to school in New York.” This got me thinking, “As an American woman, am I a hot commodity because of the green card I could provide?” I have never even considered this as a motivation for a relationship. That’s a little scary, but those who know me know I’m pretty discerning about things like this. (So no worries, folks.) I'll give the boys the benefit of the doubt and will assume that it's my beauty and intellect (and not my citizenship) they're after.