Street Smart

There’s a reason people say, “Slow down, Mario,” and by “people” I mean my mom. I sincerely have no idea if other people say that. She also says “butt naked” instead of “buck naked,” so I’m not sure if she’s the most reliable source here. I’m assuming she’s referring to Mario as in Mario Andretti, the Italian racecar driver, and not Mario as in Mario and Luigi, but oddly enough this spiel applies to both. Either way, Mom is a lovely, speed-limit-abiding woman who calls me out for driving too quickly a la any Mario of your choice.

Mom. My 2001 Toyota Land Cruiser Penelope (as in Penelope Cruz-r, for those of you who don’t know) is not capable of driving the Italian way. Penelope lumbers languidly through sleepy mountain streets and has to be gently encouraged up anything more than a 1% grade. She does take speed bumps like a champ, but that’s beside the point. I drive like an American. I also walk like an Egyptian American.

I am a presumptuous pedestrian. Good ole Main Street, U.S.A. coddled me into believing that if I began crossing the street and a driver saw me, they would, I don’t know, slow down? Maybe not continue careening toward imminent impact and my certain death? Generally, I’d say people in the States are trying to not run me over, it’s that whole “pedestrians have the right of way” thing. Not in Italy. In Italy, every crossed street is a colossal feat, if you will… a gladiatorial effort. Every step toward the safety of another sidewalk is one step closer to being flattened by a fantastically fuel-efficient Fiat.

So, since I value my life (and have not yet consumed my lifetime quota of gelato) I’ve taken to aggressively j-walking to safety. Cross walks now have a double meaning as they seem to be more of a place to channel the Son of God than a viable way to walk from one side of the street to the other.

I’ve had one driver stop to allow me to use the crosswalk since I’ve been here and I was so caught off guard by the notion that he was trying to hit me with kindness rather than the hood of his car that I lingered just a second too long on the curb, unsure if walking was actually safe, and missed my opportunity to cross safely for the one kind-hearted, light-footed driver in Italy. Sorry, sir. Next time?

Some photos from the past weekend’s field trip to Spoleto and Marmore Waterfalls: