Italian Eyes

The sun shines and the wind blows a cool wind that lingers in your hair. Here you will encounter people that make you smile and laugh. On a bus to San Marco or in a taxi to the train station, you will meet Italians who compliment you and start a conversation with you so that the silence isn't unbearable.  

My favorite part is feeling the love and emotion of each person I meet; seeing the emotion on their faces and experiencing the love and passion they carry. Whether its people watching or starting conversations in Italian I feel the compassion from every person I lay my eyes on. They say that the eyes are the window to the soul because when looking someone in the eyes you can see the emotional expression changing; there you will see how close the eyes are to the soul. 

My soul meeting and reaching journey always starts with my eyes.  

 It was a Friday morning and I was rushing and running down the stairs to meet up with my friends. We were on our way in a taxi to mid-afternoon tea. All squished up together we started a little convo with a very nice taxi driver. He was speaking in English and I was replying in Italian because I could really use the practice. As we talked during that 10 min ride through the city he asked me where I was from and why I was here. I replied that I was from Colorado. And he had a look of shock on his face. 

"Non tu sei Italiana?' 

And I replied with no. He asked me if I had a great-grandmother that might have been Italian and I said no I am fully Mexican. When I asked why he replied 

"Hai gli occhi italiani"

Which translates to "you have Italian eyes." I was a little flattered because I think that was a nice compliment I also thought it was a little funny because no one ever knows what my ethnicity is. 

In my Italian class, I sat working on a task with my classmate and my teacher comes up to me and sits next to me. She asks how I was doing and I said well. She compliments my hair saying that is really beautiful, I was flattered and thanked her for the endearing compliment. She confirms the statement about my childhood in Naples and asked why I lived there. I said that my dad was in the Navy and that we were stationed there for three years. Then she asked... 

" Tu sei Italiana?" and I said no, I am Mexican. And she asked if both my parents are Mexican and I said yes, yes they are. 

On a bus into town, I met a sweet old man named, Mario. He was wearing a pink mask and was sitting next to the ticket puncher. I hopped on the bus and punched my ticket. The old man said to me in Italian come sit hurry. Before I could decide yes or no the bus started moving, so I sat across from this old man. He was smiling with his eyes and was happily looking out the window. The sun was shining and wasn't a cloud in the sky. He began talking to me. He asked me what my name was and where I was from, why I was here, and how old I was. He spoke to me with kindness and gentleness. When I told him my name he grabbed my hand and said...

"Buonessima, che bella." 

I smiled under my mask, I knew that he couldn't see it, but I knew he could see my eyes. 

As he was about to get off at his stop, he got up grabbed my hand, and kissed it with his pink mask still on his face. The lady next to me smiled and laughed as he said...

"Una bella giornata per una bella persona."

When people ask me if living in Italy was scary or intimidating I think I will always have these memories, and endearing people to reference. Italians are many things but scary is not one of them. I will miss the crazy bus rides going up and down via bolognese. I will miss hearing the sound of sing-song Italians chatter as I walk past a crowd of youngsters.