Osservazioni di Roma

It seems that a certain kind of woman in Rome in her 60's has a particular look. Died blonde hair, brown coat, brown slacks, brown knit hat and flat shoes; always carrying a heavy bag, cigarette in hand.

In Spain, people thought I was German, in Argentina, they thought I was Italian, and in Italy, they assume I'm English.

After walking to the Coliseum, I couldn't get in because there was a woman threatening to throw herself off. For one hour I sat and watched as they talked her down, and then I went inside.

In America, taking coffee seems like taking drugs. In Spain and Argentina, taking coffee seems like taking a break, and in Italy, taking coffee seems like taking preventive medicine.

I don't make eye-contact with the men here because at the moment, I am closed in that way. It's okay though-there are so many other things to keep my eyes on.