rylie in rome

there was never a time in my life where someone had to sit me down and explain the concept of gender inequality to me. it’s always been an aspect of my reality, something i experienced most days of the week. waking up and going out into the world trained me to expect it. i’m not talking about wages or job opportunities right now, either. i’m talking about how most women i know are familiar with at least ten different ways to defend themselves. i’m talking about how we are in the habit of texting friends when we arrive places safely. meanwhile, i’ve never met a boy who had to walk his bros home after a party and make sure the door shut behind them or change sides of the street because a girl started walking creepily close to them.

i learned how to deal with it in america. i’m familiar with the ways men intrude on my right to exist safely and i know how to behave when it happens. that’s instinct. while i’ve been in italy, though, i’ve been confronted with a completely new level of gender inequality. a more confrontational, outright, and completely unchallenged level. the magnitude with which it has affected my time here is so significant that i have to speak on it. not only for female students who might be reading this in preparation for their own trip, but also to raise general awareness.

since i’ve been in italy, i have: had my hair intentionally pulled and combed through by middle-aged men on the dance floor, been whistled at and directly targeted via hand motions by a man sitting next to me on the bus, been forced to walk in circles to lose random boys who try to follow us home, been objectified by the men trying to sell us tickets to the vatican every day, listened to a 5-minute lecture from a stranger on the correct way for women to speak to men, yelled at a homeless man for grabbing my friend’s breast, and been asked by an older man if i was going home with anyone and if he could join. one night, my friends had to physically yank me away from a boy who was cornering me in the bar because i couldn’t get away from him on my own.

i’ve watched stranger’s eyes rake up and down my friend’s bodies, ignored crude comments, and missed opportunities to hang out with people because i had no safe way of returning home afterward. i’ve even noticed that when walking down the sidewalk, men won’t move out of my way. they’d rather slam straight into me, causing me to spill hot espresso all over myself, than be the one to step aside. i’ve had street vendors cut me off and try to redirect my path or call me pet names to get my attention. even the carabinieri (the highest level of the police force and the ones carrying machine guns) have taken pictures of my friends on their phones and cat called us from their marked cars. my 40 minute walk to and from class has become a source of anxiety and fear for me.

these issues are not new, of course. women have been dealing with this and worse for all of human history. it happens in america, it happens in italy, it happens everywhere to all ages and in all cultures. i’ve had well-intentioned men in my life try to explain all the different ways i need to protect myself as if i don’t already know them all. as if my greatest fear since i was 15 wasn’t being kidnapped in the mall parking lot and sold into sex trafficking. as if i’d never taken self-defense classes in high school or watched videos on how to break apart zip-ties. as if i don’t carry a portable date rape drug detector on my key ring.

i don’t know what it is about the culture here that allows for a more blatant and threatening degree of sexism and gender inequality. i don’t think it represents the true heart of this wonderful country, either. this trip has challenged me to try to reconcile my deep love and new fear of italian culture.

i have truly cherished my time here. italy is one of my favorite places in the world and i fall in love with it every day. the struggle of being a woman, however, is at odds with my desire to fully experience the world and embrace adventure. my gender is a hinderance when it absolutely should not be a concern. this is one of the greatest lessons i am learning abroad. sexism is still playing a detrimental role in the every day lives of women. i am still trying to understand what to do with that information.

i guess the point of this blog post is to be honest about my experiences abroad. not every moment has been a positive one. just because the scenery is beautiful does not mean i am walking around carefree. the fact that i’m actually walking around preparing to be attacked should be enraging. it makes me angry. i hope it makes you angry. i hope that after reading this, you pay attention to these things and make an effort to intercede. i hope that you understand how important of an issue it is. i hope you teach boys to be respectful while you’re teaching girls how to avoid being victims. i hope that women will never stop leading full lives in the face of fear. i hope the world changes soon.

when you’re living it up in italy, only taking two classes that require minimal effort, things could most definitely be worse. in fact, that was our mantra this past weekend. early friday morning, my friends and i got on the first of many metro trains to kick start our miniature vacation to the amalfi coast. we took a metro and then a train to naples (psa: the metro is the superior method of transportation in italy) and that was the only thing we had pre-planned. we completely winged the rest of the weekend.

the only way we could get from naples to our bungalow in sorrento was via the cicumvesuviana. you’ve probably never heard of it and you definitely don’t want to ever ride on it. it was the sketchiest, most crowded tram we could have found. it creaked and jerked like it was about to fall apart. we stood shoulder to shoulder without a/c while straddling our luggage and inhaling cigarette smoke for an hour. just when we thought the cart couldn’t fit one more body, the italian equivalent of a mariachi band pushed their way on and began blasting despacito. even if we wanted to drop coins in their basket, we couldn’t physically move to get into our purses. we did what we had to do, though, and made it to sorrento with smiles on our faces.

we were able to drop our bags off at the bungalow, which boasted a private view of the sea, and then went on a search for a bus to positano. evidently the sita bus doesn’t have an official stop. after flagging down every bus that passed by, we found what we assumed to be the right bus and low and behold, it was filled to the brim with people. my best comparison is a can of sardines, but like, vacuum sealed. it’s important to note that the route to positano consists entirely of switchbacks on the edge of the cliff. one of us had to focus on not throwing up, another was being launched across the aisle, and all of our hands were so sweaty that we couldn’t grip the poles. for another hour, we were hysterically laughing and also trying not to fall into the doors and tumble down the face of the mountain.

don’t worry, though; we arrived safely and the process of getting there made the breathtaking view that much more incredible. positano was the most beautiful place i’ve ever seen. we laid out on the beach, swam around the crystal clear water, ate lunch at a restaurant on the sand, and browsed in little linen shops until the sun began to set. we watched it go down while drinking fresh strawberry daiquiris and eating pasta on a rooftop bar. when it got dark, we went down to the bottom of the city to retrace our original path back to where the bus had dropped us off. no one talks about the amount of stairs you have to climb in positano, either. climbing 400 steps to the top of the duomo was child’s play compared to this. at the top, we decided to taxi back to sorrento and managed to wave down a van that fit us all. our driver was lovely and gave us a history lesson while teasing us about our american obsession with ice water.

day two proceeded in similar fashion. we took the circumvesuviana, bless our hearts, to the port of sorrento after missing the tram we intended to take. a ferry took us to capri and as soon as we docked, we hightailed it to a pastry shop and munched on some of the best croissants and coffees we’ve had yet at grotta azzurra. then, after trying to decide which young man in a blue polo was not trying to scam us, we bought passage on a boat that sailed us around the entire island of capri. halfway through, we literally jumped off that boat into a 4-seater rowboat and when the waves subsided, lay flat on our backs as the guide launched us into an underwater cave. we slipped him 5 euros to let us jump into the blue grotto, which illuminates a neon blue due to the reflection of the sunlight through the tiny opening. back on the island, we downed some piña coladas before sprinting back onto the ferry as the crew was untying the boat from the dock and waving at us to hurry. to save a little money after an expensive day, we swam at the public beach in sorrento and took home some zucchini flower pizzas from the beach bar. we ate them on our little porch in our damp swimsuits, watching the sun go down. then we got gelato from a bakery and stayed up late belly laughing at all our attempts of getting good pictures of such a hectic and fulfilling day.

this has been my favorite weekend of the trip, not in spite of the challenges, but because of them. not many people share the realistic aspects of traveling in a country where you don’t speak the language. the destinations are picture-perfect but the process can be messy. i mean, the hotel van got into an accident at the bottom of the driveway on the way to drop us off at the tram station. the driver of said van loaded our suitcases upright on their wheels and we were doubled over trying to stifle our laughter as they crashed around the trunk the entire way. we got kicked out of a pool for not buying a swim cap. we spent an eternity trying to get cute pictures in capri and ended up with maybe two acceptable shots. if you have the wrong attitude, these things can cast an irreversible shadow on your trip. luckily, i made friends with some girls who would rather laugh til they cried than complain.

we accomplished what we set out to do. we figured it all out on our own (special thanks to apple maps and universal hand gestures). we saw so many beautiful things, met tons of wonderful people, made unforgettable memories, and learned to be independent. i could have written this entire blog post without mentioning any of the less-than-ideal stuff, but that’s not always how life works. of course the view was great, but the path that lead us there brought so much meaning to the experience. miley cyrus really hit the nail on the head when she said it’s the climb.

one of the things that my friends and i are challenging each other to do this month is to behave like a local. or at least, try our hardest to. in some ways, this has been an easy transition. we’ve taken the subway without asking any questions, conquered the bus system, sipped our coffees standing at the bar, bought produce at a corner stand, and refrained from asking restaurants to split our check. however, in other ways, trying to shed our american assumptions has proven to be more difficult. here are five things i’ve picked up on and adapted to in an attempt to make my time here as authentic and rewarding as possible.

1. italian’s don’t wait patiently in line for anything. not for coffee, not for food, not for events and definitely not for the bus. you have to be a little pushy to get what you want in a timely manner and as long as you’re not physically or verbally abrasive, no one will scoff at you. there’s no better way to look like an intimidated, lost american than standing toward the back of the huddle in the coffee shop and watching everyone else effortlessly catch the barista’s attention (pro tip: they sometimes change the menu according to the time so don’t be shocked if the barista says you can’t get a drink with milk in it after 4pm).
2. dinner is not the time to get drunk. the relationship with alcohol in italy is one of the biggest cultural differences i’ve experienced. casual, social drinking is emphasized here while drinking to get blacked out is almost unheard of. if you want to go out with your friends, there are plenty of bars and nightclubs that are the perfect place to drink like an american (pro tip: italians mix shots with juice so if you want straight alcohol, ask for it “clear”). but if you’re eating pasta with your girls, don’t overdo it on the wine. you’ll be out of place and potentially perceived as disrespectful.
3. the dress code is nicer here than in america. on a day to day basis, italians tend to look instagram-ready. you don’t see a lot of leggings and sweatshirts, even on college students walking to early morning classes. if you want to keep the negative attention off yourself and experience what it’s like for those who live in rome, up your style a little bit. if you really want to blend in, go for the neutral colors or even better, pile on the black and reach for the leather. from what i’ve noticed, the aesthetic here is clean, minimalist, and modern with a touch of casual chic. confusing? yeah, i’m still trying to catch on myself.
4. the cars will not hit you. at least not in rome. many of the crosswalks do not have buttons for you to press and are rarely placed at actual intersections with traffic lights. that means you’ll be crossing four lane roads without any way to make the cars stop except for your body. ever been to new york city? it’s like that but worse. the key is to realize that the cars are not going all that fast and they know to watch for pedestrians. the other key is to just be ballsy. it may seem like they’re going to flatten you, but they will absolutely swerve around you as long as you make eye contact and don’t jump out right in front of them. do not, and i repeat, do NOT stand on the corner and wait for them to stop. they will literally laugh at you from behind the windshield.
5. everything costs money, even the water at dinner. you will be offered either sparkling or still water at every meal, and even if you order the flat water, it will still show up on your bill. typically, so will that basket of bread that they sometimes bring without asking. do not be afraid to decline these things! i’ve been carrying and refilling my own plastic water bottle so that i don’t end up spending thirty euros on water by the end of the trip. also, those guys lining the streets trying to give you bracelets? they will never give you anything for free. i’ve seen them put jewelry on people so tight they can’t get it off and then demand payment. just ignore them or say “no grazie” and keep walking. don’t even slow down; they’re hustlers trying to profit off polite tourists.

this list is by no means comprehensive, but i feel like these five things have been the most important differences i’ve noticed during my short time here. since i recognized them and made the conscious effort to conform to them, i’ve found myself getting more confident and comfortable in italian culture. i’m sure that when i get back to the states, i’ll be saying “va bene” to my waiter and asking for aperol spritzes at jj’s out of habit. but that’s a sign that your travels have truly changed you and opened your eyes to a new way of living.

my first week in italy has come and gone and looking back, it feels like i’ve been here much longer than that. my new friends and i have packed each day with as much adventure as possible, walking between five and ten miles a day to lay eyes on and brush our hands against as many historical monuments as possible. included with our program is a trip to florence (next weekend) and some tours of museums and places like the colosseum (in a few weeks), and so on our free days and weekends, we’re left to our own devices.

the most memorable moments thus far are hard to narrow down. walking through campo marzio to see the exact location where julius caesar was stabbed twenty-three times, climbing the spanish steps and looking down over the historic center of rome, going underground to see the original streets of ancient rome; these are a few that make the cut. of course, it’s the little things that always end up being my favorite memories. sitting on my laptop in a coffee shop and the barista asking to take my picture because she thought it was funny, wandering around at 2am to see what rome looks like without all the people, meeting other study abroad students from texas in tiny basement bars. i can’t believe how many times i’ve laughed this week or unintentionally whispered “wow” under my breath.

the other night, i had terrible (and i mean truly awful) italian food. you don’t believe me? my roommate’s ravioli came out frozen and my gelato tasted like i was drinking straight from a torani syrup bottle. but i also munched on fantastic 4 euro pasta while sitting on a wall overlooking the tiber river. we got yelled at for not wanting to buy a (clearly NOT) handmade ring but we also spent twenty minutes talking with a sweet italian woman we met while wandering down a pretty alleyway. we were given a sexist lecture from a male panhandler who didn’t take rejection very well (it’s not just america, people) but the same barista who took my picture remembered me and poured a heart into my cappuccino. the balance is real, and i feel like it’s necessary to have both the encouraging and the discouraging experiences.

after spending a few days here in high school, i had completely romanticized rome in my memory. now that i have time to truly dive into the depths of the culture here, i have realized that i still adore this place endlessly despite its flaws. every single place has flaws, but those flaws do not make up the heart and spirit of this city. i feel like i’m gaining a truer understanding of everything rome is and is not and i know that i’ll still be obsessing over it for years to come. i guess that’s what they call true love.