I Am Not A Tourist

Do I speak english? Yep. Do I look American? Probably. But am I a tourist? No. So don't treat me like one. I've realized over the last three months that I really don't like being treated differently because I am a foreigner. ( I am much more empathetic to those who live in the U.S. as foreign citizens ) We've had a few experiences that have really hurt my feelings - where people have been rude to us or taken advantage of us because we are American. Granted we were in touristy areas - so we do look like tourists - but it's still frustrating. The first time it happened is when Ryan took me out for my birthday dinner. He was starting to get sick, but wanted to take me out even though he wasn't feeling good. We went downtown and after walking around for an hour or so, we ended up at the Pantheon. He was getting tired and we were both getting hungry, so we got suckered into stopping at one of the restaurants right in the piazza of the Pantheon. While it was cool to eat dinner while looking at the Pantheon, the food was way over priced and not that good. Our waiter was a jerk. We tried really hard to use our italian, but he would only respond to us in english. When he brought out our bill, there was a gratuity added. Now in Italy, you don't tip waiters - they get paid a normal wage to do their job. So having it added on our bill was a bit out of the norm. Ryan wanted to pay by credit card, so our waiter brought out a handheld card reader. Before he ran the card, he told Ryan that if we put the tip on the credit card, he'd never get it. Ryan tells him to run his card for the amount before the gratuity and he'd tip him cash. The waiter agrees and runs the card, takes the cash and leaves. When we look at the receipt, he ran the card for the full amount - getting tipped twice. I was pissed. I was about ready to go find the guy and punch him in the face. That ruined the whole night for me. It was the first time I'd ever been treated poorly because I was American. Another time was, again, downtown but this time near the Vatican. We met up with our friend Michelle Wallace, who is a flight attendant for Delta, and was on a layover in Rome. At dinner we were bombarded by men trying to sell stuff - roses, selfie sticks, whatever. Our waiter there was also a jerk. He acted totally put out by helping us and annoyed anytime we talked to him - even though we spoke the whole time in Italian! I ordered a salad and usually they bring out a little tray with balsamic vinegar, olive oil, salt, pepper and sometimes parmesan cheese. All of the tables around us got one, except for us. All I have to say is - if you don't like Americans, then don't work at a restaurant in downtown by all the tourist attractions! Plus, tourism is what is keeping the economy alive here- so you'd think they'd be a bit kinder to those of us who are providing their living. Anyways. Later that night we wanted to catch a cab to take us back to our car. There are very few places to park in downtown - and we found a parking garage that is fairly close to everything. It took us about 25 minutes to walk from the parking garage to the Vatican. So by the time we're ready to head back, it's 11pm and we don't feel like walking the 25 minutes back to the car. We got a cab to take Michelle back to her hotel and then us to the parking garage. Now Michelle's hotel was only a few blocks from the Vatican, but the cabbie drove us over the river and back to get to her hotel. What should have been a 2 minute drive was about 10 minutes, and cost us $12. To give you a comparison, the night we ate at the Pantheon we took a cab back to the parking garage and it cost $7. Needless to say, when we got to the hotel, we got out of the cab. I was not about to let him take us the rest of the way to the garage. Ryan and I made the 20 minute trek back to the car at 11pm. Lovely. I know I should expect to be treated like a tourist in a touristy area, but in my defense - we have tried really hard to make Rome our home and fit in here. We are trying really hard to learn Italian and when we go out, we don't walk around with a map and a fanny pack. We try. Now I do have to say that for every time we have been treated badly, we have had someone reach out to us and be kind and helpful. Here's an example. Michelle was back in town and I took her and the kids to the mall (Porta di Roma) to meet Ryan for dinner. (The temple is right across the street from Porta di Roma). After dinner Michelle wanted to shop a bit, so Ryan was kind enough to trade cars, and take the kids home so I could stay with Michelle and then take her back to her hotel. After we were done at the mall, I had to stop at a gas station before heading to the hotel. In Italy, the gas stations are just gas pumps with an "ATM" in the middle where you pay CASH for gas. No store, no attendants, no credit card machines at the pump. We stop and I put my $20 in the machine and select the pump I was parked at. I was driving a little fiat punto (we borrowed from another guy who works at the temple but is back in the states for two weeks) and when I opened the gas tank, I could NOT get the lid off. After about 5 minutes I realized you had to put the key in it to get the cap off. Even after putting the key in, I could not get it to twist off. By the time I got it off and put the pump into the gas tank, it wouldn't work. It didn't register that I had put in my $20. There happened to be a young guy at the gas station watching Michelle and I struggle and asked if he could help. In my broken Italian, I tried to explain what happened, but to no avail. The machine just ate my money. I moved the Punto to another spot to try again and he motioned for me to give me another $20 so he could help us. I gave him the money so he could put it in the machine and then watched him get in his car. I thought - "oh crap! he's taking off with my money!" But no, he just moved his car out of the bay he was using so I could pull the Punto into it. He put my money in the machine and put the gas in the car. Wow. Thank you. Thank you for not making me feel even more stupid. He wasn't annoyed that I couldn't get it to work, or think, "stupid american". See - there are good, kind people everywhere. I do need to vent a little bit about living here. It is not a vacation. Somedays are really hard and I know from the outside looking in - it looks like I am living this romantic life in Italy. It is nothing like that. Sure, there are lots of cool things around us and there is something cool about living in a foreign country - but it is not easy. It's hard to take 4 little kids to go sight seeing. I find myself jealous of the other American families here who just have teenagers. They can pick up and go at a moments notice. They don't have to carry a cooler of snacks while walking around Ostia Antica because their kids get hungry 5 minutes into seeing the ancient ruins. They don't have to clean up throw-up in the back of the car because their twins loose their cookies 5 minutes from the beach. They don't have to take a stroller everywhere because they have to keep one child constrained so he doesn't destroy everything and the other because her four year old feet get tired after walking 20 steps. Its hard not having friends. Its hard not being able to participate in church. Its hard not being able to sing the hymns and listen to the sacrament in your own language. It's hard when you have three Italians in your home installing your A/C unit and they ask you a question and the only response you have is a blank stare. It's hard when you try to return clothes at the mall and have to have another customer in line explain to you in her broken english that they only do store credit, not cash refunds. It's hard when your 2 year old asks you every morning for Cinnamon Toast Crunch for breakfast and you have to tell him it's all gone. It's hard when your 4 year old talks about being excited for the temple to be done so we can go back to 'Arizona and live at Nana's house'. I would be lying if I didn't admit that it's hard and somedays are a real struggle for me. Sure I post pictures on Instagram that make it look like we are having the time of our life and everything is peaches and cream. But I think we all do that. And not to say that we don't have good days, and that we arent having fun and learning and experiencing new things, but those are the highlights, not the day to day life. This is my home, and like i said, I am not a tourist. I don't live like one. I dont want to be one. I dont want to live here for two years as a tourist. I want Italy to become my home. I want the day we move back to the U.S. to be a hard one. If I'm going to live here, I want to BE here.

New Country - New Germs

It's been over 2 months since we moved to Italy and we have had our fair share of sicknesses in that short amount of time. We are generally a healthy family - so when we get sick, it throws us for a loop. Just a few weeks after we moved Ryan got really sick. Now, if Ryan gets sick enough to stay home from work, he's basically on his death bed. He was home in bed for 5 days straight. After day two, we called my sister Bridgett, who is a Pulmonologist, for advice. After talking to Ryan she said it sounded like he had bronchitis and possibly pneumonia. She recommended some antibiotics and after a talk with a pharmacist, Ryan was able to get a Z-PAC without a prescription. After being on the antibiotic for 2 days, he seemed to be getting worse, not better. While Ryan was napping that afternoon, I got in touch with Ariane , and asked her to talk to her husband Bret about giving Ryan a blessing. When he finally got out of bed, I told him that I asked for a blessing for him, and he told me that he had already sent Bret a text about the very same thing. I was so happy he had already asked for one on his own, as he never asks for blessings. That night Bret, Jeremy and Diego (2 other guys who work on the temple) came to our house and gave Ryan a blessing. There was an immediate change of spirit on our home as soon as Jeremy started the anointing. The power of the priesthood is real and I felt it. It was awesome. Needless to say, Ryan was back at work the next day. You may say that it's because the medication finally kicked in - but I know it was because of the priesthood blessing. After Ryan got sick, each of the kids took a turn getting a cold - luckily , no one was as bad as Ryan. About this same time, I felt the wave of adrenaline that I'd been living off of for the passed two months finally fade away - leaving me completely exhausted. I was sleeping plenty of hours at night, but it never felt like I was getting enough. Then I got a yeast infection. Before we moved, I asked my OB, Dr. Beck, to give me a prescription for Diflucan, which cures yeast infections. So I went ahead and took the pill, but it didn't seem to be working. After a few days, I realized I needed to do something more. I tried asking for it over the counter at a pharmacy by our house, but they refused to give it to me without a prescription. After talking to some other americans here, they found a pharmacy that has an english (kind of) speaking pharmacist that was very helpful. So I met up with one of the other american wives and she showed me this pharmacy. There I was able to buy as much as 20 pills of Diflucan over the counter. Score! So I took another pill, and after 2 days, another pill. Still nothing. I decided it was time to call Dr. Beck's office to ask for help. By the time I was able to call here (9pm) Dr Beck and his nurse were at lunch (noon AZ time). So I left the nurse a message and decided to try again the next day, as they had no way of calling me back, now that I only have an Italian phone number. That night I woke up at 2am and felt prompted to call Dr. Beck's office - it being about 4pm. The nurse wasn't there, but she had written down a note in case I called back. It told me what kind of medicine to ask for, and directions for taking it. The next morning I went back to the pharmacy and was able to get the new medicine, no problem. It seems like a small thing, but I know it was a blessing from Heavenly Father. He really does care about the simple things in our lives. Next up: allergies. For the months of April and May - everything was in bloom. The trees, plants and flowers are all new to us, so everything affected everyone. Clark especially has a hard time with allergies. Any time he gets a little postnasal drip, he coughs and coughs and coughs. Of all the medicines I brought, kids allergy medicine was not one of them - although I sware I packed some. We did have one package of Zyrtec-D - and quickly went through all of that. Now that things are warming up, I think we are getting passed the worse of it. One small blessing - I finally found 'Kleenex' brand tissues. Everything else is like sandpaper - and for the way we have been going through tissues - our noses are very grateful. Being in a foreign country and getting sick is hard. We have insurance, but where do we even go to get care? I did ask the nurse at the school and got some referrals, and thank heaven for the Rome Mission nurse, Sister Millett, - we call her frequently. It is kind of scary thinking about if we had an emergency - what would we do? There's no Banner Gateway or Phoenix Children's Hospital. I know it'll all work out and we are getting help every step of the way. We have a good support system here of other Americans, families from school and friends from work and church - so we have somewhere to turn for help. In the mean time, anytime someone from the U.S. comes - we ask them to bring us Zyrtec-D and Puffs plus lotion Kleenex!