Men in Italy - or, when nervous giggling is a disadvantage

It's high time for a post on Roman men, although I'm scared I'm going to come across as a complete wanker in this post. Whatever, the public deserves the truth. Also, some of the men that talk to me in Rome are not actually Italian, hence the "men IN italy" rather than "italian men" title - I meet alot of Moroccan, Romanian, Senegalese and Congolese guys.

As a young, obviously foreign woman ("obviously" foreign refers to blondeness; pale skin; bad english accent when speaking italian) I get constant hassle when out and about in Rome. Men in Rome love foreign girls. It's not as if this is a remote place with few foreigners - there's hordes of tourists, although admittedly not in my neighbourhood, but still, it's not really the novelty value so much as the reputation of tourist/foreign girls, I suppose - as fun and attractive, if you want to be nice about it, "easy" if you don't.

I say "hassle" - some of it's very friendly and good natured, some of it's borderline uncomfortable or intimidating. I'm quite ambivalent about it as well; sometimes it's fun, and I've made genuinely new friends out of some of these strangers; sometimes I just want to be left alone and get very frustrated with being so conspicuous; sometimes I'm genuinely scared and rage at the insensitive, idiot men who think it's funny to cite a recent example, to run past me way too close when I'm walking back from the bus stop alone at 2am and then, when I jump, say "oh no, sorry, we didn't want to scare you but can we just give you a compliment? you're very beautiful" and then, when I continue walking and ignore them "what, can't you at least say thank you?"

I muttered a "grazie" and they left me alone. But you can imagine that in a situation like that, I'm always tensed for things to turn nasty...and when you consider how nasty they could potentially become, is it really surprising that I'm going to be uncomfortable talking to a stranger at night??

For a start, as a foreigner, it's impossible to blend in, especially in my area where there aren't the hordes of tourists there are near the centre. You can't skulk around unnoticed. Just buying an icecream involves a conversation about where I'm from and what I'm doing in Centocelle.

This morning, for example, I have a horrible cold and feel like spending the day in bed not talking to anyone. However, I had to venture out to the shops for supplies, and once there, it was impossible not to engage with people. This is partly down to a cultural difference between Rome and London: whereas back home it's possible to leave the house, go to the shops, pay and come home without making eye contact or conversation with anyone (unless, that is, you live in East Dulwich in which case you'll probably bump into someone you went to school with or your mum's friend, but anyway) in Rome you can't really walk into a shop without saying "hello" and generally interacting a bit more. That's probably a good thing (more community feel, a more integrated society). However, what I had this morning, from the 3 men at the fresh cheese and bread counter in Todis, was:
"Are you American?" "No, English." "Ah, beautiful, England. I need English lessons." "oh, right, haha" "Yes, I know 'bread'...'cheese'..."
And the thing is with these kind of exchanges, that while at the beginning I'm usually thinking "oh help, get me out of here, just give me my damn cheese" I do tend to warm to them after a while, so by the time we got to this part I was laughing, while they were asking me "how much would this cost in England?" (indicating huge, kilo of grana padana cheese on the counter) "expensive, right? like gold dust? unaffordable? can't get cheese like this out there, can you?" etc etc.
I extricated myself, with cheese, got to the cashier to pay and the guy there, having obviously heard my exchange at the cheese counter, was like "so where are you from in England?" "London." "Ah, bella, londra..." and so it goes on.

Things like chatting in the supermarket about where I'm from - in general I think that's nice. It's good to feel like people are interested and people know me. Everywhere I've lived in Rome I've developed at least a "hello/how are you/where are you from"-type relationship with the local shopkeepers and bartenders, which is a nice change from London where you can go into the same shop 4 days a week for a year and no one seems to recognise you. However, exchanges in shops have a crucial difference from exchanges outside shops; there's usually a counter between you and the interlocuter...plus they're at work and hence you know they won't be pursuing you outside the shop.

On the street, however, it's another matter. Standing out so obviously frequently leads to cat calls and comments: I've had guys on balconies calling after me "ciao, bella, where are you from? America?" etc. I guess maybe they do the same to other girls, but there's not the same provision of an easy conversation starter ("where are you from? what do you do in Rome? etc). Also, I think italian women are better than me at blanking out the voices. My housemate Maria told me that when I walk down the street I need to look straight ahead of me, walk purposefully, and not give any sign of a reaction when guys say things to me - that way I can avoid interaction.

Even when people don't say anything there's still the staring. I was on a bus the other day - the 105 from Termini back to my house - standing up, and it felt like everywhere I turned left, right, directly opposite, in the seat nearby - there was a man staring at me. I buried my nose in a book but remained self-conscious, so when the bus intersected with the train that does the same route I got off and changed. No one had said anything or done anything, but I was uncomfortable enough to break up my journey. You can't really get indignant about people staring at you...can you? plus it makes you sound like a wanker, as I probably do right now ("I'm so attractive, everyone wants a piece of me, they just stare at me all the time").
I admit that I don't help myself by generally dressing in bright, colourful clothes, but I like the way I dress and as a feminist I don't think I should have to change it to get the treatment I want from men (namely in this case "Don't look at me continuously for longer than say 30 seconds").

In the street, in general, I try to ignore guys who try to stop and talk to me. It depends, sometimes if I don't feel threatened then I'll talk to them. (I suppose another factor here is my immense pride in being able to have a conversation in italian, and wanting to show that off). And ok, I admit, I met my ex-boyfriend after he started talking to me on a bus. I'm not saying that guys should never attempt to approach women they don't know...just that they should be polite, should take a hint, and should not be offended or irritated if that woman does not want to talk. And they should be aware of the environment; I might be quite happy to talk to someone in a crowded piazza when my friends are there, but if it's late at night, there's not many people around, and I'm alone, you trying to talk to me is likely to seem threatening. Alot of guys here really do not seem to understand this.

The main problem with me and italian guys stems from the fact that when feeling uncomfortable/nervous/not knowing what to do, or when a guy is staring at me fixedly while proclaiming "you are very beautiful", my automatic response is to start giggling. To the extent that I often think I'm being very rude (I personally don't think I would enjoy having someone laugh in my face while I talked to them). However, alot of the italian or foreign guys who talk to me in the street take this as hugely encouraging. I think they tend to interpret it as "she's smiling and that means she's loving talking to me and I am hugely funny and entertaining". What they don't realise is, I also giggle while at the dentist or while giving blood - much to the consternation of the blood donor nurses. It's a nervous reaction. Guys here love it though. I get alot of "Wow, you're so smiley! you can't really be English! they're supposed to be cold people!"

Maybe it's my naivety but I tend to take people at face value, so a trick I've been had by a couple of times recently is people acting like they know me already. I approached the tram stop at about 11pm one night and a guy of about my age greeted me as if we were friends. "Ciao! Come stai?" and kissed me on both cheeks, as is customary around these parts. I assumed he must be someone I'd met and forgotten about, and in fact was wracking my brains for who he could be, but when he stepped back, still keeping a firm grip on my hand, and asked "Where are you from?" I thought "Oh, sh*t, he's just a chancer". The hand grip was not necessarily threatening but it was invasive, from a stranger, and annoying. The main thing hampering me from pushing him off and telling him to get lost was, as usual, my well-brought-upness and manners. (Do I need to become ruder? leave answers in the comments.) Anyway, I told him, politely, that I'm from London. "Ah, bella Londra. I'm from Morocco" he replied. I decided to seize this opportunity to tell him (as was then true at that time) that my boyfriend was Tunisian. I must keep using this as it worked like a charm. He let go of my hand, backed off, even apologised. "sorry, sorry, excuse me. Have a good night." I smiled, thanked him and walked off.

Smililarly, I was walking down the street near my house on thursday about midday when an old man (about 70 I'd estimate) sitting on a bench with a couple of other old men, called out "ciao" to me. To preface this story I should add that my landlord is about the same age and the other day, he started talking to me outside the house and I just had no idea who he was, until he introduced me to someone else as "the new tenant". I was a bit like "I am? oh right". So on thursday, when this man called out to me, given that he wasn't some 18-year old obvious chancer, I assumed he knew me. I stopped and said "ciao" back. He grabbed my hand (not a good move) and asked "bella, why are you running? where are you going?" at this point I kind of figured out I didn't know him, so replied that I was going to work. "are you married?" "No" (how I curse my inability to lie in these situations!) "so, why don't you come to have lunch with me today?"
Christ, this man was seriously old enough to be my grandfather.
"er, no thank you, I have to go to work. Sorry". "No?" he asked. "Dinner tonight?" "sorry, I have to work." I wrenched my hand away and fled.

There's another factor at work here, which is the myth of the Latin lover. Italian guys love it when I tell this story. They think it's hilarious that a man of grandfather age is still chancing it with a 20-something. I remember my friend Erika getting very offended a few months ago after a 50-something guy approached her on a bus. "why does he think he's got a chance with me when he's obviously more than 20 years older than me??" I guess it IS pretty funny, but I think the Latin-lover thing is something of a self-perpetuating cycle - Italian men are aware of the stereotype that they are supposedly a)good-looking, b)romantic and c)sex machines, and they play up to it. I've had so many conversations with italian guys in which they've ended up by shrugging their shoulders and going "we're italian, we're like this, that's just us, you have to accept it." Hmmm...

There's definitely a culture of sexism in this country, most charmingly illustrated by Berlusconi and his paid-for-by-lobbyists escort girls. Women are objectified ("we have the most beautiful women in the world"), men are exonerated of sexist behaviour ("we can't help it when we're just so damn MASCULINE and all the women are so beautiful"), no TV programme is complete without a troupe of barely dressed female dancers.

I had an interesting experience the other day which made me think about how I perceive the men that approach me. I was waiting at a bus stop near Termini to take me over the river to teach a private lesson. I was deep in a really fantastic book (Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides, I highly recommend it - very interesting on gender issues, incidentally) and really didn't want to be disturbed, but a dark-haired guy speaking italian approached me and asked how long I'd been waiting. I was like "oh, 5 minutes" and tried to return to my book but he was persistent. Where was I from? did I like Rome? it's beautiful, right? what did I do over here? where did I live? etc etc. He also got onto "wow, you're very beautiful, do people tell you that alot?" and so on. I kept my book open and tried to get back involved every time there was a pause in conversation, but he wouldn't stop talking to me. (what's the etiquette here? I felt like I would have had to be quite rude to say "excuse me, I just really want to read my book, can you please leave me alone?" but equally why should I be obliged to talk to a complete stranger just because HE wants to?) He even made me describe the plot of the book to him, stretching my italian vocabulary to the limit (I left out anything about sex or gender, not wanting the conversation to get into that territory). In short, I had him down as the usual Italian chancer, of whom I encounter maybe a couple a week.

We climbed onto the bus and I intentionally sat in a single seat so there was no option for him to sit next to me. I cracked open my book again. He stood nearby and commented - in perfect, American english "So, your italian is pretty good."

I was so shocked! really taken aback, and also kind of annoyed as if he'd tricked me. It turned out he was from Chicago and had lived in Rome for 5 years or so, hence the good italian which, to my inexpert ear, had sounded natural. He was like "I just thought I'd give you a chance to practice your italian", to which I was like "thanks, but that's still annoying". Anyway, what was weird was how my perception of him changed after we switched languages. Suddenly he was less threatening (because I could communicate with him more effectively? because I felt like we had more cultural background-type stuff in common? I don't know) and less predatorily masculine - I now perceived him as quite geeky and weird (he was). We went on to have a more interesting conversation about whether we/people in general had different personalities in different languages, and the implications of speaking two languages.

I apologise for the lack of photos in these most recent posts. I have no camera and not one but TWO camera-phones have packed up on me recently, leaving me with only a miserable 1990s-style mobile for the moment...I'll try to sort this out.