by Leslie Simmons (Burbank, CA)NOW THAT I'VE BEEN IN ITALY for exactly a week, and learned some key phrases and words, I’m more confident with approaching and asking for things. But when I arrived in Rome and the next day Florence, I felt disconnect despite encountering many people who spoke English. This started from the moment I stepped off the plane in Rome and was approached by a man who asked if I needed a taxi. Of course I needed a taxi, I was carrying two giant bags – much bigger than I needed – and wasn’t about to lug them onto the train or a bus into town. So, I said, “Yes, please.” As we start walking past the taxis lined up outside the terminal, I realize I’ve agreed to a car service. I’ve lived in New York and I was just there the week before and had the same exact encounter at JFK Airport. There, I brushed off the guy. I knew the cabs have a flat fee. I knew all I needed to pay was $45 to get into Manhattan and to the hotel my work puts me up in every time I stay there. So why did I not respond the same way to this man, Alesio, who saw I was American and clearly not in my element? Once inside and whizzing away from the airport, I asked Alesio if there was a flat fee. He pulls out the taxi card: 85 Euro. “Wow. That’s expensive,” I said. “Well, it’s 35 kilometer,” he responded. Maybe he said it was farther than that, but I wasn’t paying attention, since my mind was racing trying to convert Euro to Dollar. I finally realized, this taxi ride was going to cost at least $100. Gulp. I got taken. I tried to make good of the situation. Alesio pointed out some buildings – Mussolini built this building that looks like St. Paul’s Basilica and when I asked him about all the graffiti on the buildings and walls, he explained, “Graffiti is either political, or about soccer … or for love.” Later, the man at the front desk, Diego, told me it should have only cost me 45 Euro for a taxi from the airport. Yes, I thought, but then I wouldn’t have known about the graffiti, I suppose.
