adjusting

We've been back a whole week now, and it feels more like a month.

More good American things I'd forgotten about:

1. customer service--everyone is so friendly here. I went to the bank to have something notarized, and when I learned that the notary guy wasn't in, the bank lady called a nearby branch to make sure the notary was in, then she Yahoo-ed directions to that branch and printed it out, along with the other branch's phone number. And that's not the only example--I could go on. And on.

Italians are friendly, too, just not in shops (unless they know you). I once went to buy a measly pair of tights for my daughter at a shop in Italy. I had my three kids in tow, the youngest of whom was whiny (to put it mildly). I must have waited 5 minutes (which is more like 10 when you factor in the cranky toddler) while the shop keeper blabbed with her friend. During their conversation, I said things to my toddler like: "I'm sure our turn will be soon, honey" in a loud voice, but to no avail. She never once looked my way, or said anything like: I'll be right with you.

Italians are many wonderful things, but public servants they are not.

2. lines--everyone waits in line here. In orderly lines. Patiently. The lines in Italy aren't linear--they're blob-shaped. Waiting in an Italian line is not for the faint-hearted. You need to be quick. You need to pay attention. You need your elbows at the ready. The worst line cutters are the grandmothers. They look innocent, but I am here to tell you they are not. Their grandmotherly (apparent) innocence is their secret weapon. They pretend not to see you (picture a "Who, me?" expression) and while you're off guard, they shout out their coffee order ahead of you.

In a U.S. line, I could be reading a book, and the guy behind me would say, "Excuse me, but aren't you next?" In Italy, I could read War and Peace from cover to cover and still have the line cutters silently stream around me.

And now for some not-so-great things:
1. The Fuzz--not that I'm a fugitive of the law, or anything, but it's a little disconcerting to see policemen everywhere. I don't know about you, but whenever I see a police car while I'm driving, I automatically hit the brakes, even if I'm obeying the speed limit. The other day I was driving during morning rush hour, and there was a cop by the side of the road pointing a big 'ol radar gun my way, his feet planted shoulder-width apart, looking like the sheriff of his own little median strip.

Sure, I used to see Italian policemen, but I've never seen an Italian speed trap. Probably because the policemen are afraid they'd trap their own mothers, since everyone speeds in Italy.

2. Lockdowns--Have you ever heard of those? If you aren't a kid in this post 9-11 era, you probably haven't heard this term in regards to an elementary school. I'm a teacher who will be teaching in a year-round school that starts soon. (I know, it's not even August yet. Tell me about it). We had our first staff meeting the other day, and the principal was going over safety procedures. So we cover fire drills. Fine. Then tornado drills. Okay. Then we cover the procedures to follow if:
a.) there's a threat outside the school (if someone has robbed a home in the neighborhood and is on the loose),
b.) if there's a bio-chemical hazard outside the school, and finally
c.) the lockdown, if there's a threat in the school building. If this happens, we have to lock our classroom doors, draw the blinds, tape paper over the window in the door that leads from the classroom to the hallway, and have the class huddle in the corner furthest from the door.

I don't even know what to say to this. Maybe all of this is necessary in Italy, too, but they don't know it yet? I hate to think of my daughters practicing these drills come September, and asking "Why?".

Suddenly, those Italian grandmothers in the blob-shaped lines don't seem so bad...