Thoughts on Traveling with a Thoroughly American Family in Italy

The Stiths descended on Sansepolcro last week, amusing themselves, local residents, and my fellow Meredethenians (as Christian is fond of calling them) and venturing all over Tuscany. I don’t intend to include an exhaustive chronicle of our adventures, because they have told me that they plan on writing a guest entry for my blog. So I will try to confine myself to my impressions, and not theirs. Unfortunately, most of them were the same. But I’ll do my best.
First of all, American guys are big. Really big. My dad’s six-feet-one-inch towered, Cole’s size 11 shoeprints dwarfed, and Christian’s shoulders took up a lot more room on the bus. While I realize that my brothers are still growing, I wasn’t prepared for them to seemingly double in size since August.
Secondly, my family is big. While there is a touching intergenerational connection in Italy between grandparents and young grandchildren, I never see teenaged kids hanging out with siblings or parents. I think this is true to some extent in the US as well, but homeschoolers don’t have the option of only socializing within their grade. I never noticed it as much at home, partly because we know a lot of homeschoolers and partly because we rarely use public transportation. I think the sight of a family of seven, four of whom are teenagers (more or less…I’m 20 and Curt’s 12) getting on a bus together would be unusual anywhere, but in Italy where you rarely see families with more than three children, it’s extraordinary.
Thirdly, my family should get credit for Core 200. I was not mentally prepared for culture-shock-times-six. But with Tiffany asking “Are we in Italy, Chelsea?” Curt asking “Why aren’t the restaurants open at dinner time?” Cole asking, “Why can’t I find any wireless networks anywhere?” Christian asking, “Why doesn’t the light turn off when I click the switch?” Mommy wanting to know, “What kind of tree is that?” and Daddy wondering “Do they go the gym and play basketball?” I found acting as a culture buffer to be a bit overwhelming, to say the least. After about three days of it, I finally put my foot down and refused to answer any more questions. I had more than enough to do trying to play translator and travel agent. However, they became experts at finding good cafés, asking questions when necessary, getting on an off of busses and trains, finding a park or a piazza right when we needed to give Tiffany some playtime, and charming the socks off of everybody. I have to admit I was a bit jealous…everybody liked them all so much that I’m afraid I seem a bit boring by comparison!
One other funny aspect of culture shock was the realization that we have our own bit of culture in the Palazzo. Living with a bunch of women college students (who are, for the most part, from the South) who are all taking the same classes and going on similar trips is a recipe for inside jokes and funny rituals. We’re getting good at recognizing who is walking into the room by their step. We know who likes to study where and when, we know who will have their paper done early and who will put it off until the last minute. We know who to borrow clothes from, who to ask for advice, and who to plan travel breaks with. You can imagine how my parents, brothers, and baby sister would seem more out of place in the palazzo than at the bus stop.
Chelsea, on the other hand, fit into the Meredith-in-Sansepolcro campus like a hand in a glove. After my Meredith-in-Raleigh-roommate had gotten settled in Sansepolcro, it was difficult to remember that she hadn’t been there all along. We had so much fun catching up, cooking, and taking pictures together.
My family and I also had a wonderful time…I was actually very proud of the itinerary I worked out. They visited Anghiari on their own, and then we took day trips together to Montecasale, Citta di Castello, Firenze, and Arezzo. A “delegation” even visited Siena. Then we headed to Roma for the last few days before they flew out. We had the most unbelievable luck: we went to mass on All Saint’s Day at St. Peter’s, heard the Pope speak in several different languages (including English!), climbed the Cupola, toured the Colosseum inside and out, saw the Pantheon and the Circus Maximus, and ate a delightful dinner at a quiet restaurant in one day!
As a final note, I’ve decided to give in and include one of Christian’s observations; it’s just too interesting to leave out. He was trying to figure out why he was so disturbed at the thought of a man carrying a purse. Saying “It’s just a cultural difference” was a cop-out; he wanted to understand exactly what it was about his personal worldview that made the thought of a “man-bag” or “murse” so disturbing. He came to the conclusion that a guy should be able to get along for the day with what he can fit in his pockets. Purses, in his opinion, are for nonessentials like chapstick and hand sanitizer. He wasn’t bothered by a backpack, because he said that at that point the bag is for essentials. I’m afraid that it never would have occurred to me to try and figure out why Americans think that purses are girly. My family’s reactions to Italian culture were an excellent reminder to look more critically at difference, instead of just recognizing and appreciating it.