We’ve been traveling to Europe, particularly Italy, for nearly two decades now. While I’ve studied the Italian language and customs, I’m still far from fluent. However, I’ve discovered that understanding the words needed to order a meal and ask for the toilet can suffice in any country. Additionally, I’ve found that as long as you make an effort, people are genuinely supportive. Nevertheless, I’m aware that as an American, I carry the weight of its inherent stereotypes while I’m here.
Most of the time, this isn’t an issue, but recently, I spent a weekend in a small town on the Adriatic Sea, a local tourist destination rather than an international one. I usually use a specific app to find places to stay, and its recommendation for a hotel was spot on. The hotel was right on the beach, and we had a lovely view of the sea from our bed. However, since no one in the hotel spoke English, we had to “think” before speaking. Even Mike communicated with one employee in German, as the worker spoke more of that language. But soon, surprisingly, there was a five-way conversation that even included humor. The conversation involved a little English, German, Italian, and a language they referred to as a “Puliesco.” It was an inside joke involving an employee from Puglia who combined that with the word for “German” in Italian, which is Tedesco. This experience is typical of our time in Europe.
On our final night, I made a reservation ahead of the visit at a restaurant about five miles down the beach in a small town on the Adriatic. This time, I used an Italian app that has strong opinions about restaurant inclusion. Instead of calling for reservations, I sent a message on “What’s App” and received two responses. Both were “OK.” I wasn’t sure if this meant we had reservations. Mike, who prefers the phone called the restaurant on the day of our dinner. The gentleman who answered said he didn’t speak English and that it was not possible to make a reservation because they were full. I spoke from the background that I had texted, and when he heard that, the gentleman said, “Oh, is this Debbie? Yes, we have a table for her.” Everything was a go!
When we arrived, Mike kindly dropped me off since the only parking available was for motorcycles and bikes. I cautiously entered the quaint beachfront building, which exuded a distinct fishing and seaside ambiance. A table for two was conveniently placed in a corner at the back of the room, accompanied by menus for food and drink. Since everything was written in Italian, I pulled out my phone and started translating, primarily to avoid dishes containing squid, cuttlefish, octopus, and clams. After Mike arrived, I realized that effective communication would require conversation, so we initiated a two-way dialogue that incorporated both Italian and Google Translate. Eventually, we settled on dishes that aligned with our preferences. I opted for a pasta dish resembling thick spaghetti, featuring swordfish, pistachios, and lime. Mike chose a Sea Bass roll, which was wrapped around something resembling a crayfish, accompanied by a potato and asparagus gratin. We both thoroughly enjoyed our meals.
Soon after we arrived, the other diners began to trickle in. Most knew the chef and the staff, so they stopped by the kitchen before taking their seats. It was clearly a truly local spot, and I felt a bit out of place. The staff was very welcoming, but I couldn’t help noticing my “American” habits. A traditional Italian dinner has three courses, sometimes followed by dessert—more food than we could manage. When it came to seafood, I was content with fish and the occasional shrimp, while Mike was willing to try more. No one in the restaurant was overweight, yet everyone ordered and finished the standard sequence: Antipasto, Primi (pasta), and Secondi (meat), which included many examples of local “seafood.” As the evening went on, a few dogs even joined the group, settling beside or under the table.
I’m glad I visited the area and learned more about how real Italians live. My discomfort is just something I have to deal with.
