Italy, Oh Italy!

Today while I was on my way to my last class for this semester, I saw something bizarre enough that I have to take time out from studying for finals to share it with all of you. I have been here for around six months now, and I thought that there would be nothing else that the Italians could do to shock me anymore. Obviously, I was wrong.

After two weeks of living in Italy, you quickly learn that you should not try to understand why they do certain things that seem to defy logic. Anytime we started to ask "why would...", an older man in the school would stop us before we could finish the senetence. They would then pass down the time tested wisdom given to every American man who has lived in these hallowed halls. "Some things are better not knowing, the answer will only make you upset."

For example, why would cops chase down a motorist to yell at them for driving on a closed road when there were no signs or barricades or anything else to indicate that the road was closed. Remember, don't ask questions like that. Or why do they feel the need to clap every time a plane lands after a flight. Do that many flights crash here? Remember, you don't want to know the answer. Why don't they realize that a single file line will move quicker than an entire mob trying to shove through a small area at the same time while yelling and pushing each other. This doesn't make any... Oh yeah, you shouldn't wonder about that. The list could go on and on, but I think that you are getting the picture.

Today, they managed to make me forget my battle earned wisdom, and I accidently blurted out the question which I have carefully avoided for so long. As I got to the Greg today [everyone refers to the Gregorian University which I attend as the Greg for short], I noticed a large group of protestors with banners standing around the entrance to my school shouting at everyone inside. Italy is famous for it's scioperi [strikes] and manifestazioni [protests]. They will protest anything and everything. Sometimes it is worthwhile, and other times it seems to benothing more than a way to get an extra day off work. Sad to say, I got a little excited because I thought that I was about to see my first anti-clerical protest. As I walked through the crowd, I read the signs and had to check my eyes a few times. It wasn't an anti-clerical protest. It was a protest against Morgan Stanley and other banks which haven't been fiscally responsible. Why in the world would they protest in an out of the way piaza [square] about banks in front of a theology school filled first the most part with priests, seminarians, and nuns. Oops! I shouldn't ask that. Maybe they think that my school looks like a bank. But wait, there are around a thousand people in clerics and habits walking in and out of here all the time. Stop thinking! Don't ask why! Maybe they think the nuns are smuggling money in their habits for Morgan Stanley. I'm so confused. And when I thought it couldn't be any stranger, they began using a bull horn to chant at us about banks. Do all the other priests use Morgan Stanley? Maybe I should invest with them also when I have more money. Wait, stop. You still think that there is a reason they are doing that here.

In the end, I gave up. I was reminded once again that there are some things that I will never understand as long as I live in Italy.