First days in Italy
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After my first day’s work in Italy, I took a long walk through the city and eventually reached the beachfront. The soft, warm colours reminded me of Rome on my last visit. As I was enjoying the sun go down, I could sense the gaze of an old man on a bicycle.
Having sat down for a while I decided to start walking again, this time on the beach. I met people exercising, walking their dogs and soon spotted a fishing boat being pulled through the shallow waters. An elderly fisherman was waiting for the boat to reach shore and he had his eyes fixed on me. He kept staring until I had passed him. For the second time in less than five minutes, it struck me: What’s going on with the older men in this town?
I continued taking photographs and eventually made my way back through a parallel road to the beachfront promenade. Guess who suddenly pulls up on a bicycle and says “Ciao” with boyish smile on his face? Oh yes, it was the first old dude. Well, hello there to you too, as it means repeating the phrase. After realizing I speak only English and no Italian, he biked off.
A frustrating question popped up in my head: Did he honestly think I’d be interested – and in what exactly? For the third time: What’s wrong with the older men in this town!? Or do they all think they’re Silvio Berlusconi and I am nothing but candy on a stick walking by?
My theory got a new turn the next day. According to my Swedish friend, who has lived in the area, there are a lot of hookers working the coastline. They come from the Eastern block or Russia, have blond hair and tend to dress fairly normal.
Jesus. That’s even worse... The idea made me cry out loud! That means I can’t go out on the streets alone. I’d even rather be disrespected and viewed as candy on a stick – than approached as a prostitute. Well, screw the old men (or not!) Tonight I am putting on my best dress and meeting up with some friends at a bar. Anyone approaching me will get a snooty primadonna reply with Russian accent: NIET – up yours!
