When we travel, we may not realize how moments will affect us in the future. This is Part 1 of a 2 part series on the overlap between my Australian and Italian cultural experiences. Be sure to check out Part 2, and subscribe to my feed.
Italy is, and will always be, my first love. There was actually a period of time that I thought I wanted nothing more than to move to Sicily and eat cannoli and gelato on a daily basis. After getting to spend a semester of my college years in the beautiful city of Verona, I was lucky enough to learn a couple of key life lessons to factor into my life plan: 1) Italy would make Brooke very fat, and 2) accepting a gift from an Italian boy is a bad idea.
It all started with the discovery of just how incessant Italian boys can be. I always tell my girlfriends that if they are ever feeling down about themselves to just hop on over to Italy; they will soon be hit on maybe an average of 20 times a day by Italian guys of all ages, making it practically impossible to feel bad about one’s self image. Yes, they will proceed to get pursued by both boys not able to grow facial hair and men well into their 80s believe it or not.
And, with that boldness came a bit of awkwardness on my part. I know that it is a cultural experience to partake in the cheek kissing when meeting and greeting, but these incessant boys always tried to sneak something into the mix (a little grope, a kiss on the lips) in the most unsuitable locations (on the train, in the gelato shop), and I was just having NONE of that, thank you. Yes, folks, I thought I had mastered it – how to avoid the awkward cheek-kiss-on-the-train scenario. Sadly, I was to learn yet another lesson.
Davide – I will never forget that name.
Davide and I met on a train that was going to Verona from the tiny Austria-bordering town of Bolzano. I remember seeing him down the platform, waiting with ticket in hand, because he stood out from everyone else that day. He was the typical young Italian with his fashionable shades and greased up dark hair, but strangely enough, here he was the only one.
I found myself a nice little compartment alone in hopes of napping, but it didn’t stay that way for long. This would be where Davide made his grand entrance, being sure to sit right across from me by the window. We sat in silence for some time while the vineyards passed quickly by, but I was in agony thinking that they weren’t passing quickly enough. I was right. Davide had too much time, started to feel too comfortable, and that’s when he decided to make his move.
I want to first explain what I was wearing – my beautiful Murano glass ring.
My Murano Glass Ring Background:
On my first stop in Venice, I discovered Murano glass and fell in love with the rings. I scoured shop after shop in Venice to find the perfect one; it sported my Italy colors – black, silver, maroon (I bought many things in these colors during my time abroad).
“We were inseparable and spent at least a good week together before the event.”
The event I am referring to actually occurred about a month prior my meeting Davide. My habit of slamming my hands down on tables to emphasize my words led me to breaking my glass ring one night at the bar. The ring would never be the same and was quickly laid to rest.
“One cannot easily understand my shock.”
Even though the ring was not of much value money-wise, I did find this one out of hundreds. I was determined to find yet another great ring, and I did, on another day trip out to Venice. It was quite different – orange, red, yellow, gold – reeked of my personality. I was in love again. This ring and I experienced the Ice Man, Sicily, Rome, Florence, and so much more.
This ring I just so happened to be wearing on that fateful day, the one that ended up being our last together.
Why did it have to end?
I’ll tell you why. Davide. Davide came along and tried to sweet talk his way to my heart in a half hour’s time.
He told me, “You look like Jennifer Lopez.” Boy was he off. Or, maybe he was talking about my newly-found and Italian-fed ghetto booty?
He said he wished to remember me forever and to come visit me in America. Ha, yeah, I’ll meet you there, Davide. Silly boy.
Finally, Davide’s stop. I remember pulling up to the train station and seeing the green sign that read “Mezzo Corona”. It was a small town outside the hills of the mountains in northern Italy, probably extremely beautiful, but I shall never return for fear of running into Davide and making a scene.
Davide grabbed his bag and, it happened so quickly, made his way over to me, Eminem wristband in hand. Davide wanted to give me something to remember him by.
“Oh, thank you,” I said in sarcasm. “Great, an Eminem wristband. Beautiful.”
He pulled out my hand and started to slide the band over my wrist when I looked up to find his tongue hanging out of his mouth.
“Ah, hurry, turn your cheek!” I shouted at myself in my head.
Ack. I got tongued on the cheek. Damn that Davide! My mastery of avoiding awkward cheek kissing on the train had all been undone. That ought to teach me to take a gift from an Italian boy.
Davide left, or so I thought. I looked out the window to see him standing there, watching me intently and blowing kisses. Does it ever end?! He was jumping up and down like an excited puppy that couldn’t contain himself, and he really couldn’t. He jumped back on the train to beg for kisses; I would not give in. I had to basically push him out of my cabin and further out of the train!
I looked out the window again and he was still there, staring.
“Look away. Look away,” I told myself, but of course I was intrigued by this rambunctious character. “Damn, he’s still looking!” He didn’t take his eyes off of me, until he looked down at his hand.
“Wait, what is he looking at in his hand?” I wondered. “Hmm… that looks like… AH!”
The slimy little sneak slipped my beautiful ring off in all the commotion! Just as I realized, the train did a rustle and started to pull away; Davide waved and blew kisses, the excited little puppy he was. Shocked, I went back and forth from laughing to anger. Goodbye ring. Goodbye Davide. Goodbye Mezzo Corona.
Yeah, that’s right. Never accept a gift from an Italian boy.
*Venice photo courtesy of Sarah Yagoda.
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Friday, March 26th, 2010, 2:27 pm | 
Australia, Italy | 
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March 27, 2010 at 9:19 am
My experience with men in Italy – “Never Accept a Gift From an Italian Boy” http://bit.ly/9W3JAB #italy #travel #lp #rtw
This comment was originally posted on Twitter
March 26, 2010 at 10:29 pm
Holy crap, that’s rude. I’m actually angry now. Great write, feel sorry for you about the experience though :/
March 27, 2010 at 10:23 am
Haha, yeah it was shocking at the time, but really not too surprising given the level of persistence I saw in guys when I was there. Oh well, I’m over it – it deserves a good laugh
March 27, 2010 at 3:59 am
WTF! What a douchesack. But still, this kinda makes me wanna visit Italy more. To get hit on, I mean.
March 27, 2010 at 10:26 am
You should totally go!
March 27, 2010 at 5:56 am
Okay, that sucks but it’s a really great story! Keep on writing, Brooke!
March 31, 2010 at 10:00 pm
Well, at least I got this cool story out of it!
March 27, 2010 at 8:19 am
Brooke – This is hilarious and awful at the same time!!! I loved it. Do you have a picture of the Eminem wristband?? Is it awesome?
March 27, 2010 at 10:16 am
Haha, I still have the wristband somewhere at my parent’s house, but no picture
I wouldn’t say it was awesome, but this memory is.
March 27, 2010 at 12:18 pm
Haha, good story I enjoyed reading it. I would be so pissed, the rings sounded beautiful, but now I know that if I get a Murano glass ring, to be very careful when slamming my hands about!
March 27, 2010 at 12:30 pm
It’s very good advice learned the hard way
March 29, 2010 at 2:08 am
OH MY! RT @brookeschoenman My experience with men in Italy – “Never Accept a Gift From an Italian Boy” http://bit.ly/9W3JAB
This comment was originally posted on Twitter
March 28, 2010 at 3:45 pm
Do the Italian girls tenaciously hit on the guys as the guys do to the girls? If so then I wanna go!
…But I was in Italy last year and didn’t have any girls licking my cheeks.
You know, looking to nature, it’d be a good idea to do as some types of frogs do. Some secrete a foul-tasting chemical on their skin when they are attacked. Perhaps rubbing down your cheeks with a nicely scented but foul tasting potent laxative would “teach those boys a lesson”… just a thought.
If you come up with such a thing you could market it as “Italian Boy Repellent”.
March 28, 2010 at 6:53 pm
No, I don’t think the Italian girls are quite like the guys
And, that’s an interesting business idea… would anyone here be interested in “Italian Boy Repellent”?!
March 28, 2010 at 5:03 pm
This is hysterical Brooke! I know it’s not really, it’s actually kind of scary but it is funny at the same time. I have had similar things happen in Mexico.
March 28, 2010 at 7:00 pm
Oh, I have plenty more stories from Italy. It was a time that truly strengthened me as a solo traveler.
March 28, 2010 at 5:19 pm
Haha! Italian men are very similar to Spanish men! They are so forward, it’s really strange and off-putting to an American I suppose! I guess it’s all a part of the culture.
P.S- I spent time in Florence and fell in love with glass rings too. I finally decided on a really pretty black one, and mine broke in the exact same way!! I was laughing so hard and slammed my hands down on the table and it shattered in a million pieces. Sad sad day. Crazy!
March 28, 2010 at 6:56 pm
Very much like Spanish men! Did I tell you all about the time I was in a 10 bed dorm room with 9 Spanish guys?! yikes
March 31, 2010 at 7:24 am
You make this experience so vivid, Brooke – I thought the tongue on the cheek was bad enough but to have the chutzpah to steal your ring too – horrid!
March 31, 2010 at 9:53 pm
Thanks so much for your sympathy, and for reading
April 1, 2010 at 2:11 am
i didn’t have any similar experience with italian guys in that way but it’s an hilarious story although i would be also very upset for my ring.
btw that cannoli are so inviting !!
April 1, 2010 at 6:47 am
What a funny (but frustrating!) story. In college, I studied Italian for 2 years and was constantly warned about the persistently flirty men in Italy. I finally went there this past summer to 3 cities, and was surprised how toned down it was (I only remember 1 guy being annoyingly persistent). I told some friends, who said they’d heard that Italy had gotten a bad rap for it and that it was starting to change. I was just in Istanbul, and it was awful — the men are all over you. Same as in Mexico. So it was actually nice to be in Italy but not have to worry too much about shooing away suitors
April 2, 2010 at 7:26 pm
Wow, that’s completely different… guess I’ll have to go back to check
April 3, 2010 at 8:37 pm
From @brookeschoenman Never accept a Gift from an #italian boy. http://bit.ly/9bkJnF #travel
This comment was originally posted on Twitter
April 3, 2010 at 8:58 pm
always check cultural habits! RT @TheTravelTart: From @brookeschoenman Never accept a Gift from an #italian boy http://bit.ly/9bkJnF #travel
This comment was originally posted on Twitter
April 17, 2010 at 5:06 pm
Okay, so the whole reason I have not gone to Italy, is b/c I don’t want to deal with the male hassling factor.
Despite having lived in east africa and parts of asia, I still am hesitant to do the Italy thing.
However, I too had heard that things had toned down considerably…and I will be with my 9 yr old on our trip-so that should put me off limits? [sorry, I look very young and am kinda hot-(:]
Oy vay! What a story for you…
Doesn’t it seem like this type of scamming happens everywhere except the US, Canada and Northern Europe?
Sure, other types of scamming in those places…anyway, but seriously-a tongue as a theft tool-that’s a new one, even to me, and i’ve travelled and lived solo abroad a few times…
Bummer.
April 17, 2010 at 5:07 pm
Meaning that I am now going to Italy-next week!-b/c I had heard things had mellowed out….fingers crossed.(:
April 19, 2010 at 12:24 pm
Good luck, Irm! Hopefully you’ll have a much different experience than I had
April 22, 2010 at 2:24 am
Wonderful write up, Broke! That was a creepy experience… He’s quite a thieve
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April 2, 2010 at 7:32 pm