Three things happened yesterday that I want to share with you.
1. My pants set off a security alarm.
I have been looking for index cards. I don’t think they exist in Italy. It goes along with my theory that paper is precious in Italy. Paper is worth more than gold. How do Italian students learn anything without index cards?!? I’m really trying to learn Italian and I need to memorize some vocab. I head to the Coop in Sesto to try to find some index cards. I walk INTO the store and set off the alarms.
In the US, this isn’t a big deal. No one pays attention. In Italy, a cute security guard comes over and tries to figure out why you are smuggling stuff into the store. After I give him my purse and my coat, we realize that it is something that I am wearing: my pants. I had a few seconds of absolute panic and a quick flashback to graduate school: Were they going to make me strip down to prove this? (Maybe one day I’ll tell you the story of the fire I had in graduate school and having to take my clothes off in the basement of the building.) Thankfully I didn’t have to remove anything. But in the moment, ALL of my Italian left me. I started babbling wildly in English. The guard spoke a little English and was laughing at me by the time it was all over.
Who takes off the security tag on their clothes? Not me (obviously). I only take it off if it is itchy. Well, I can tell you that ALL of them are coming off this weekend.
2. I got a “catcall” from an older Italian man.
The first one! Of course, it was a guy on a bike. (Why couldn’t it have been the guy who owns the Porsche SUV that I see at the university?) He rung his bell at me. I wasn’t in his way or anything so I’m taking it as a catcall. Woo hoo!!!
3. There is no way that I can possibly pass for Italian.
I’ve mentioned this before, but everyone speaks English to us. They don’t even try Italian most of the time. Today, two girls singled me out on the street to ask directions to a store that sells adapters. I saw several people pass them by, but they picked me. It’s that “I’m American” tattoo on my forehead.
PS - The title of the post is “Where are the index cards?”
I don’t think he was actually laughing AT you…he was laughing with you. (Were you crying yet?)
I wouldn’t worry about the English thing - maybe they are practicing their English jsut as you are trying to practice your Italian. Okay, the bringer of happiness and positivity will go now! 
Would you like us to send you some good, old-fashioned, American index cards?
Perhaps dyeing your hair dark brown will pass you as more Italian?
He he! This is a three pronged response -
No, I didn’t cry (amazingly). I knew how absurd it all was and couldn’t believe that it was happening to me!
I’ve made do with regular paper cut down to size. Hopefully I’ll start remembering all of the words as soon as I read them and won’t need the flashcards for much longer!
Hello Vanessa. Sounds like you have become obsessed with the index cards
I had similar expreince when we first moved to the US but not on the same level as you as Americans do speak English well not excatlly like me but we manage….I’m having a lovely time with my folks and the weather has been great. Kepp on blogging
Claire:)