That is, unwanted male attention.

There’s nothing worse than that skeezy guy who wants to talk you up as soon as you take your earbuds out. Maybe he’s not threatening to your personal safety, but he’s definitely threatening to your mental sanity. This was the case with my Luccan stalker. 

During my homeless in Europe stint, I spent a week in Florence during which I decided I would take a day trip to the Tuscan country side city of Lucca, known for its ancient city walls and tortelli lucchese. On a clear weekday morning I made the quick walk from my hostel to the Santa Maria Novella train station, purchased a ticket, and hopped on an almost empty train for the 90 minute journey.

I settled down on a tattered Tren Italia seat and pulled my iPod from my bag, turning on a playlist full of Brand New and Tiziano Ferro to drown out the world as the haphazard Roman architecture slowly gave way to rolling Italian countryside. I spent the next hour drifting in an out of sleep when suddenly I noticed a man across the aisle staring at me.

“Sei italiana?” he asked as I accidentally met his gaze.

“No, sono americana,” I said hoping to quickly end the conversation.

“Oh! Then you speak English,” he exclaimed happily in an accent that was noticeably un-Italian.

Wonderful, I thought, as he continued to ask me questions that I answered with about as much disinterest as possible. I was starting to wonder how I was going to ditch Mr. Creepy when the police entered the carriage to perform identification checks. I’m not usually a fan of law enforcement but I let out a sigh of relief as Mr. Creepy quickly bolted out of the cabin. I calmly handed over my drivers license happy to be free again.

Shortly after the police check the train pulled into Lucca’s tiny station and I made my way straight to the city walls for a walk. Lucca’s city walls, originally built for defense during the Medieval times, form a four kilometer ring around the city. Now that surrounding Italian cities are no longer trying to attack, the walls are used as a place to walk and bike, and make for a great view of the city.

I was enjoying myself, leisurely strolling along in the still warm fall air and taking photos, when I heard someone trying to get my attention.

“Hello again! Hello! Hello!”

The always enthusiastic Mr. Creepy was back. He wanted to have lunch. Never mind the fact that it was about 10 am. I mumbled a bunch of excuses under my breath as he persistently kept trying.

“A walk around the city. A photo together.”

He inched in closer.

I started to feel nervous. My heart was beating faster. The words I wanted to say were running through my head but wouldn’t materialize on my tongue. I stammered out a quiet no and walked away quickly, trying to get lost in the arriving crowds and hoping I could ditch Mr. Creepy for good.

Lucca is a small town and there is a well marked tourist trail of churches and piazzas. Hundreds of people are herded in on buses everyday and I decided to stick close to them. Safety in numbers and all. I spent a couple hours wandering up and down the narrow cobblestoned streets admiring the architecture, the crafts and artisan foods for sale, and reveling in the small town feel that was so different from both Rome and Florence.

Getting hungry, I ducked into a small restaurant on the outskirts of town. I sat for an hour or so, writing in my journal, enjoying a glass of red wine, and savoring the delicious tortelli lucchese (an almost ravioli covered in a rich meat sauce) Lucca is known for. I felt relaxed. I felt happy. There’d been a bad start, but the day was turning around.

I paid my bill and left the restaurant, heading to the last church on my list and maybe a cafe for an afternoon espresso. I had my head down digging through my purse looking for my guidebook not paying attention to my surroundings. When I looked up, who was directly in front of me? None other than Mr. Creepy. Now, like I said, Lucca is small. But it’s not THAT small. I was now a little scared and a lot angry. I was trapped. His mouth opened as if he were about to speak. Before he could I spun around and walked furiously in the other  direction. Right to the train station.

Almost in tears, I fed the euro bills into the ticket machine, trying to get myself back to Florence as soon as possible. I was angry at this man for not realizing I didn’t want anything to do with him. I was angry at myself for not being stronger and more explicit with my rejections. I was angry for not having been able to fully enjoy this beautiful, historic city.

With more than half an hour to wait, I bought a gelato. As time passed and the scoop of stracciatella got smaller, I realized couldn’t let this break my sprits. My cup was empty and the train was arriving when I decided that this day would be a learning experience. I wouldn’t let him sour my thoughts about Lucca, Italy, or traveling solo. The only thing I could do was grow from it and move on.

I did.

But I’d still like to go back to Lucca someday. Without Mr. Creepy lurking in the shadows.

Have you ever been the victim of unwanted attention? How do you deal with this situation? 

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Flashback Friday: When I Was Stalked in Lucca is a post from: Farsickness

First off, a lot of people might be asking, what the heck is an au pair? When I told people in the United States of my plans to work abroad as an au pair I was usually met with a confused look. An au pair is kind of a babysitter, language tutor, and cultural ambassador hybrid. Au pairs are hired most often as a way for families to expose their children to mother tongue English speakers. Thus, most of the au pair’s time is spent with children speaking English. You may be required to help with chores around the house or prepare more in depth lessons, but usually you are only expected to do about 5 hours of work a day. In return, the au pair is given room and board and a weekly allowance of what is considered pocket money (in Italy this is less than 100 euro a week). So while you won’t be raking in the cash, you will be immersed in a new culture and make enough for a few glasses of wine (or pints of beer) on the weekend.

Cheap drinks and good friends. A standard night out for au pairs.

Now, how did I go from recent college graduate to girl living in a subterranean cell? Well, as soon as my study abroad program in Rome ended in the spring, I knew I had to be back in that city. Finding a job in Europe as an American is incredibly difficult. With an extremely large pool of European workers who don’t need visa sponsorship, few companies are going out of their way to hire us Yanks. Especially in the bureaucratic nightmare of a country that is Italy. Working as an au pair is a good alternative for those looking to live in Europe.

After spending a few weeks weeding out families on the internet, I finally secured what I thought would be a great position with a single mother and 3 older children living in the northern part of Rome. Plane ticket purchased, bags packed, and airport pickup sorted, I boarded a flight to Rome in early September filled with joy at the thought of returning to my city.

Within the first few days of arriving, it became apparent that much of what had been told to me about the job wasn’t actually true. 5 hours work days turned into 8. Light housework became scrubbing floors on my hands and knees. My private room was actually a moldy, dark, storage unit in the apartment’s basement. I was horrified. After many tear filled long distance calls to my parents and a long discussion with my host mother, I decided to leave.

But fear not, au pair jobs in Rome are plentiful and I soon had another gig lined up with a family. This family, with two elementary aged girls, welcomed me with a spread of wine, cheese, and salame. Off to a good start. I quickly fell into stride with the family and the schedule. Walk the girls to school in the morning. Tidy up their room. Pick them up from school. Help with English homework. Play hide and go seek. Braid doll hair. Eat wonderful home cooked Italian meals. All while still having time to sip cappuccini and wander the city with my crew of fellow au pair friends during the day and at night.

Soon I was not only living with a family, I was completely immersed in another culture. Though I was only to speak English with the kids, the family spoke Italian amongst themselves and my listening comprehension and vocabulary skyrocketed. I celebrated my first “Name Day”. I ate a sheet of tiramisu made by my host grandmother instead of cake to celebrate the youngest girl’s eight birthday. We decorated the Christmas tree together (and dressed up like Santa Claus) in time for The Day of the Immaculate Conception. I was experiencing a part of Italy I had never gotten to see as a student or a traveler.

When American Thanksgiving rolled around I got to share some of my culture. I make turkey (breasts, not the whole bird unfortunately), mashed potatoes, my dad’s famous stuffing, green beans, and even a pumpkin pie. My host father brought a great bottle of white wine to accompany the meal and after dinner we Skyped with my family back home. My host family loved the entire experience and it made my first Thanksgiving away from home much easier than I’d anticipated.

The girls enjoyed this traditional Thanksgiving craft.

As my time with the family came to and end that December, not only was I sad to say goodbye to my host family, I was sad to say goodbye to the entire experience. Which wasn’t something I thought I’d be able to say when I was living in a basement four months earlier.

Don’t let this post scare you away from pursuing a job as an pair. Do your research, go in with an open mind, and don’t expect every day to be smiles and sing-alongs a la Mary Poppins. Being an au pair is a fabulous way to experience another culture and live abroad as a young adult. Even with the ups and downs of my time as an au pair in Italy, I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

If I was on the other side 25, that is.

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Flashback Friday: The Time I Was an Au Pair in Europe is a post from: Farsickness

One of my favorite spring times that I’ve experienced was when I lived in Rome. Spring came early that year and left me with plenty of time to enjoy the city before it got too crowded and too hot. If you’re looking for the perfect time of year for an Italian holiday, this is it! What are some of the best things to do in Rome during my favorite season?

1. Take a walk along the Tiber.

The Tiber, or Tevere as it is known in Italian, divides the city and is a great place to take what the Italians call a passeggiata when the weather is nice. I would start at Ponte Garibaldi in Trastevere (where I lived at the time) and walk towards Vatican City. On this route, you walk through a variety of neighborhoods and oftentimes will stumble upon stalls selling a variety of times, such as used books. I once scored a copy of the first Babysitter’s Club book in Italian and it made my day. Eventually you willl hit Ponte Sant’Angelo (or Bridge of the Angels, my favorite bridge in Rome), Castel Sant’Angelo, and the large Piazza Cavour which makes a perfect ending spot. There are many restaurants in the area if you want to grab a bite to eat and you are near to many public transport options if you want to get back to where you are staying.

If you want to optimize your walk, grab a gelato to enjoy and head out as the sun starts to get low in the sky. The light at this time of day turns the entire city gold.

2. Catch a soccer game at Stadio Olimpico.

If I didn’t scare you off in my last post about Rome’s crazy soccer fans, get yourself over to Stadio Olimpico to catch one of the last few Serie A games of the season, which ends in April. Both AS Roma and SS Lazio call this 1960 Olympic Stadium home, but I suggest that you don yellow and red and cheer for Roma because as we all know, i laziali sono fascisti (Lazio fans are fascists, a common dig by Roma fans due to history and the supposed right leaning political affiliation of a large part of their fans). Tickets are never hard to find as the stadium is huge and rarely sells out.

3. Grab a drink (or caffé) and people watch in a piazza.

One of my favorite activities, any of time of the year, is to sit in a piazza, chat over drinks, and watch fashionable (and not so fashionable) Europeans pass by. Most tourists head straight to Piazza Navona and while it is conveniently located and there is a large selection of restaurants, most are extremely overpriced. My favorite piazza in Rome is Piazza Santa Maria in Trastevere. It is located outside of the city center, but near enough that it’s not a haul to get to, the backdrop of the church is beautiful, and the amount of foot traffic provides for wonderful people watching.

The perfect piazza springtime drink? Campari with orange. A little bit sweet, a little bit bitter, brightly colored, and uniquely Italian.

4. Head up to the top of the Janiculum Hill for a fantastic city view.

This list should make it fairly obvious that the Trastevere neighborhood holds a special place in my heart. My last springtime in Rome suggestion takes you back to that neighborhood south of the river. The Janiculum Hill, or Giancolo in Italian, is not considered one of the historic seven hills of Rome because of its location across the river, outside the old city center. Because of this the hill offers a fantastic view of the city’s many domed churches and attractive architecture. In addition to the views, you can check out a monument to Giuseppe Garibaldi, instrumental in the Italian unification movement and inspiration for my tattoo, as well as many parks and monuments.

If none of these ideas sound inspiring, don’t fret. There’s never a shortage of great things to see and do in Rome, especially during the cool spring months!

Have you been to Rome in the spring? What did you think? What are your favorite city dwelling springtime activities?

Disclaimer: Though written by me, this post was brought to you by Thomson Holidays.

Flashback Friday: Springtime in Rome is a post from: Farsickness

The reaction you get from the majority of people when you tell them you are going to Naples is not a positive one.  They inevitably mention large piles of garbage on the streets and quickly move on to how dangerous it is and how there is nothing to see.  The severity of these warnings almost had me believing I was going to be stepping over dead bodies as I got off the train.  Maybe it was because of these low expectations, but I was pleasantly surprised by Naples.  I was able to eat well, walk along the sea, and there was not an AK-47 in sight.

Naples is a striking dichotomy between old and modern, decaying and pristine.

That isn’t to say the day went off with complete ease.  Soon after arriving at the station (and after the requisite caffè e cornetto) we navigated our way to Via San Gregorio, the stop for all things Christmas related in the city.  Naples is known for its’ presepi (hand carved nativity scenes) and this narrow alley-street is lined with competing shops and, around Christmas, booths and stalls selling everything holiday related.  Now, I hope you have remembered two key points.  Narrow street and national holiday.  The streets were gridlock.  I was getting kicked in the head by a baby sitting on her father’s shoulders, old Italian women were screaming obscenities and trying to push through, and someone’s hand, as always, was making its way to places on my body that I’d rather not have touched by a stranger.  I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry, I wanted to be able to walk, and most of all, I want to make sure I didn’t get pick pocketed.  Finally, after some strategic elbowing we managed to escape the throngs of people with all of our belongings and decided to forego the majority of Christmas market.

He comes in a variety of sizes for all your Jesus needs!

The decision was made to drown our frustations in food and we scoped out a sidewalk cafe that offered a nice view and some superb snacks.  It was here that I discovered the most decadent of savory treats, balls of fried pasta that can only be described as heavenly.  Elbow pasta, a creamy sauce, peas and ham, breaded and deep fried.  No further description is needed.  After walking that off and before boarding the train back to Rome, we stopped, as anyone traveling to Naples should, for a pizza dinner.  Da Michele is the best known pizzeria in Naples (it was in that book turned movie about that woman who does some soul searching around the world which I refuse to name on this blog) but the wait was three hours and time was not on our side, so we darted across the street to Trianon da Ciro.  This three story pizzeria may not be as famous as Da Michele but their pizzas are phenomenal.  A thin crust topped with homemade tomato sauce, fresh basil and a drizzle of olive oil is baked to a perfect crisp in a word burning oven.  This perfect Neapolitan pizza was a fabulous to end a quick trip.

Naples does have its fair share of problems- the unemployment rate is staggeringly high, the trash piles up on the streets and the mafia exerts both political and economical control over large parts of the city- but I would recommend Naples to anyone traveling to Italy.  Even if you only pass through on the way to the Amalfi Coast or after a day in Pompeii, skipping Naples would be missing the heart and soul of southern Italy.

Flashback Friday: Naples, December 2009 is a post from: Farsickness