Roadblocks to Beauty

Florence from Ponte Carrier

Close-up of sidewalk construction in Florence

Construction on Saint Mark’s Basilica in Venice

Back view of construction on Saint Mark’s Basilica in Venice

Munich view shows four cranes in the distance

Construction on the Nymphenburg Palace in Munich

Sidewalk construction in Florence

Construction on the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona

Close-up of construction on the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona

Large crane in the view at Viareggio Beach

Sidewalk construction in Florence

Florence from Ponte Carrier

Exposure

Exposure. That’s the key difference Stefano Minoli, 21, points out when talking about Americans and Italians. Sitting in a chair wearing his skintight (by an American perspective) designer jeans, loafers, and designer rugby; Minoli doesn’t point out exposure to fashion or culture, but rather, exposure to alcohol.

Minoli moved to Florence at the end of his senior year in high school. He grew up with an American mother and an Italian father. Minoli learned a thing or two about the differences between Italians and Americans, while hopping back and forth between Europe and the United States his entire life.

Minoli, a marketing director for Flying Dutchman Productions, says the key difference in American teenagers is binge drinking: “I think because of the prohibitionist mentality in the United States, young Americans tend to drink excessively every time they are at a party, bar that serves underage, or in a foreign country”.

He says the difference in Italian teens is that: “Italians are used to drinking and don’t think every time they come in contact with alcohol they have to drink a lot of it, because God knows they’ll see it again”.

Although Minoli has seen what appears to be a million drunken rages at 4 a.m. in the narrow streets of Florence, he agrees that sending American students abroad is a wonderful thing. It creates what Minoli thinks is essential: exposure.

German Guests

As if being blonde, wearing lime green gym shorts, and carrying a brown leather satchel isn’t an obvious enough way to spot an American tourist, then chanting in public definitely is.

Upon arriving outside of the three story world famous Hofbrauhaus (for dinner), I immediately noticed that this was a place where Germans and tourists alike gathered for nightly entertainment.

Our group of forty began watching the three-person trapeze act that was gathering a crowd in the square. The redheaded woman, who was the main act, noticed we were Americans and welcomed us, telling us she, herself, was from North Carolina.

After hearing this, the entire group started chanting, “USA, USA”. The sound filled the air and many people turned their heads.

Having been about 100 feet away from the rest of the group, standing behind a German couple, I did not partake in this chant. I was too interested in getting to our table; my nose was filled with the smell of authentic German food (not the kind I get at Steinkellers on a weekly basis back at school).

As busy as I was dreaming about potatoes and sausage, I was momentarily distracted by this couple. I heard the man say, sarcastically, in German: “the Americans would be chanting for their own country in public” (something along these lines).

Filled with anger, I politely turned to him and said, “You know, I can understand you”.

The man dropped his jaw, raised his eyebrows, and filled his face with shock. He then proceeded to hurriedly walk away.

I learned that being an American in Europe can be easy to spot, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Venetian Visualizations

Expecting silence and sunshine was an ignorant thought. Maybe this thought was born because of the picturesque scenes displayed on postcards sold for 3 Euro, or maybe, because of the hallucinations I was experiencing from the heat. Either way, silence was not golden.

As we walked down the narrow stone path into the sand, the view of vast quantities of people seemed to be all I could see for miles. Immediately, all the students I was with were looking for topless and nude people. They wanted to truly “experience” Lido Beach. By experience, I think they meant get a good look and laugh.

The good laugh came at too high of a cost. A woman sitting next to us, and by next to us, I mean a mere inch away, was wearing a turquoise bikini. However, she had seemed to have forgotten to put the straps on, exposing everything.

After venturing into the cool musky blue water, we saw something worse than a woman who had forgotten to put her top on: fornication. There it was, two young locals enjoying the waves a bit too much. Needless to say, Emily was the first to interrupt their PDA (Public Display of Affection)- too public in this case.

Emily left and they continued on after conversing for a few minutes about why they chose to display their love in this way. She sure did know how to get the group riled up and chose to imitate them all the way back to shallow waters.

When I got on the crowded water boat filled with locals and tourists, alike, I instantly wanted to find a seat for the ride back to Venice. The afternoon in Lido had proven to be anything but silent. As I drifted into a daydream, I couldn’t help but picture the awe I had seen that afternoon.