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Houtan Bastani
Italy
February 2004
A Free Exchange
I've been fortunate enough to live in Italy before I received my Fulbright; I spent six weeks in Florence studying Italian during the summer of 2000. The greatest difference I've noticed this time around is that there's a cooler reception of Americans than existed previously. Much has changed in the world over the past three years, but I think it would be safe to attribute this quickly growing anti-American sentiment to what Italians feel is America's unilateral approach to diplomacy. Don't get me wrong-Italians are still some of the friendliest and most hospitable people in the world. On this trip, I've spoken to countless Italians and befriended several right off the street. I've been given tours of their cities, invited into their homes and social groups and have gone out with them at night. The cool reception of which I speak is by no means prevalent amongst Italians, but it is growing.
When I was last here, I would venture out on my own and try to meet as many Italians as possible. Not once was I put on the defensive about my government's actions-sadly, this is no longer the case. Now, the first twenty minutes of some introductory conversations-something usually filled with "where are you from's" and "what do you do's"-is peppered with accusations and explanations of perceived wrongdoing by the American government. Fortunately, though, such sentiments do not run deep and valuable friendships can still be formed with relative ease.
One such encounter stands out above all the others. I spent Christmas vacation in Rome with some Fulbright friends and some friends from back home. One night, my high school friend and I were out on the town in the neighborhood of Trastevere. We were sitting on a bench in a piazza filled with benches. Seated across from us were two Italian frikatoni with their beautiful dog who was confident enough to go exploring in the chaotic street but timid enough to check back with his best friend every few minutes. I tried to pet it the first time it came up to me, but its diffidence took hold and it scurried quickly back to its owner. I followed it over and immediately struck up a conversation with the frikatoni-Roberto and Andrea. Roberto is a communist and Andrea is a socialist-needless to say, at least ostensibly, we didn't have much in common. In the discussion that ensued, Bush, Berlusconi, the war in Iraq and problems with capitalism and communism were all discussed before we exchanged names. What came from this forthright discussion-something that, just a few years ago, wouldn't have occurred at such an early stage in a relationship-was a free exchange of ideas on our respective political and economic systems, a better understanding of contrasting modes of thought and a nascent friendship.
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