I’ve got to start marking my street signs. A woman stopped me today to ask directions (this is a good sign for my ensemble! I was not running, mind you, and looked very stylish) but I was forced to reply to her, “Mi dispiache, sono americana.” I’m sorry, I’m an American. It seems like a funny apology to make, but she understood that I had no idea what the streets were named. Even though I did know that one! I had a gut feeling it was the major street I cross every day on the way to school, and when I checked my map just now, I was right. Agh.
Oh well, getting pegged as an Italian is a step in the right direction.
Also, my family won’t believe their eyes reading this, but I’ve come to stop noticing cigarette smoke, at least in the open air. Yeah. Tease as you like.