Personal Space

Before coming here, those more experienced had warned us of pickpocketing and even suggested wearing backpacks on the front. I thought this was a little extravagant at the time, but to my surprise, I've now seen many a Roman, not only good little tourists like me, wearing their bags pregnant-style. After almost a month of trying, I've finally photographed the elusive silly Roman:



As if this weren't enough proof that pickpocketing is, in reality, a widespread phenomenon, I recently went to an enormous outdoor market. Amongst the under-priced costco-sized boxes of watchbands, t-shirts, anything you could ever need, there were shoes, electronics and jewelry that were clearly well used, loved, and now missed. It makes you want to keep your hands in your pockets at all times.

Lack of personal space extends past belongings, though, to unwanted touch from people you don’t know. Nearly every time I see the housing director downstairs, he pats me on the shoulder and asks how I’m doing. I’ve gotten the same shoulder pats from professors, men and women, one of them the nut I photographed a few days ago. I’ve hit my head on a fence-pat on the head! Once, we were on a tour led by a priest, who wanted to play a practical joke on us. After telling a story, he asked a girl to tap him on the shoulder, barked, and scared us all. But it was a priest! A religious man! And that’s from people who grew up in the states!

The most invasive situation I’ve been in, though, was care of an Italian man working at a coffee bar. While unsuspectingly waiting for my espresso, the man offered us sample spoons of chocolate gelato. I refused. This, apparently, is not allowed in this country. First, he tried withholding my coffee, then saying something that was most likely condescending in Italian. Then, while unsuspectingly sipping my coffee, he comes out of nowhere to my side of the counter, puts one arm around me and tries feeding me the gelato.

This isn't a display of laid-back attitude. It's a show of power, self-righteousness, and being super-creepy. And it must be stopped. The next person who touches me will feel the result of that one krav maga lesson I had freshman year.