[Breakfast at Nannini's. Holy moley. Greatest.Pastries.Ever. And cappuccinos. And cafe lattes. Starbucks, you have not been missed.]Siena is a tourist town, probably like most places in Italy/Tuscany/Europe, and the Americans don't have a stellar reputation. They're:
1. Loud. Siena's a medieval city, with narrow streets and arches and lots of tight spaces. A little noise goes a long way. Add to that the American tendency to speak as if we're at rock concert all the time.
2. Drunk. There is just a totally different attitude towards alcohol over here. Amanda put it best at dinner the other night: "They have fun and maybe will happen to get drunk along the way. Americans get drunk to have fun."
3. Lost. The befuddled expressions and upside-down maps say it all.
[A view from one of our many strolls through the city.]So the other evening, some of my American chums and I were having some wine on the Piazza del Campo (one of the greatest urban spaces in the world, but it deserves its own post, so more on that later) and we were about to hit the town in search of this Irish pub (yes. Not confirming #2 has been a challenge for us college chilluns). I was in need of il bagno and I didn't want to walk back to the hotel, so I decided to try one of the pizzerias on the Campo. I didn't want to seem like just another loud, drunk, lost American tourist asshat college student in need of the loo. So I asked for it in French.
[Adele, Ray, and Tom chillin' like villains on the top of the Torre del Mangia.]"Excusez-moi, où est la salle de bains?" (Any French speakers will immediately note that I didn't even use the correct word for bathroom.)
The older lady at the counter gave me a dubz-tee-eff look. "Ehhh?"
At this point I should have just broken down and admitted that I was another buffoonish American who really just wanted a pee. But I couldn't.
So when I said, "Um, do you have a bathroom?" I said it in a French accent.
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