What to do:
Loudly clear your throat. If that doesn't work, position yourself between Team Tonsil Hockey and whatever masterpiece they’re blocking. Then step backward, "accidentally" knocking into the pair. If they still haven’t come up for air, show them you actually command enough of their language to defend yourself!
What to say:
POSSO UNIRMI A VOI?
“Can I join in?”
or
PRENDETEVI UNA STANZA!
“Get a room!”
It’s appropriate to say this because. . .
Proper museum etiquette (no food, drink, loud noise, or artwork c**ck-blocking) is what ensures that all patrons are afforded the opportunity to enjoy a meaningful experience at the cultural institutions of their choosing.
In the know:
Museum-going tourists who've “been there, done that” in Italy (having exhausted the Uffizi, the Academia, the Vatican, and all of the other major museums) may want to check out the more kitschy Pasta Museum (in Rome), the Gas Station Museum (in Milan), the Knowing and Playing with Waste Museum (in Torino), the Umbrella and Parasol Museum (in Piedmont), or the Climbing Boot Museum (in Treviso)!
EXTRA CREDIT
Some cultures are more prone to PDA than others. And in Italy, public displays of affection are rampant. As such, you may want to tuck away a few more admonishments:
1. FATE PURE COME SE NON CI FOSSI!
“No really, don’t mind me!”
2. NON VI SI STANCA MAI LA LINGUA?
“Aren’t your tongues tired yet?”
3. SE VI LECCATE ANCORA UN PO' RESTATE INCOLLATI!
“If you make out any longer you’ll find yourselves stuck together!”
Against your better judgment, you find yourself salivating over the Fendi handbags peddled by the very same Venetian “vu cumprà” (street vendor) that your hotel concierge cautioned you about. One particularly aggressive “salesman” insists (in well-rehearsed English) that his wares were made in the same exact factories as the real thing, from the same materials, based on the same designs, and using the same techniques. Your Catholic half reminds you that buying counterfeit goods is illegal and you could be hit with a "fine for fakes" of up to 10,000 euros if the police conduct a sweep and catch you with a knock-off. But your “Sunday-morning-is-for-sleeping-in” half simply can't help herself, especially after watching a hip local purchase the same model you’ve been eyeing for a mere 50 euros. When you go to pay for one yourself, the peddler feigns confusion—suddenly insisting that the bag costs double.
What to do:
Act as if you are reconsidering the purchase and hover nearby until he nets his next victim. Then, once the transaction is about to go down, introduce doubt into the new sucker’s mind by sighing and saying:
QUELLO STRONZO MI HA IMBROGLIATO!
“That bastard cheated me!”
What to say:
The slimy sales guy wants you to cough up a hundred euros for a purse that, to tell you the truth, is a piece of crap. Say to him:
SENTI, NON CREDERE DI FOTTERMISOLO PERCHÉ NON SONO ITALIANO!
“Listen, don't think you can f**ck with me just because I'm not Italian!”
It’s appropriate to say this because. . .
The same way friends don’t let friends drive drunk, customers don’t let customers get screwed.
In the know:
In the past decade, Italian police have majorly cracked down on counterfeiters of designer goods in the name of protecting its fashion industry. In fact, in August of 2005, a Philippine woman living in Florence was fined more than 3,000 euros for buying fake sunglasses!
EXTRA CREDIT
Now that you’re speaking in Italian, try thinking in Italian, too! Here’s how your thought process might go if you had actually forked over the hundred euros:
La borsa era tarocca.
“The bag was a fake.”
Ma che cazzo!
“What the f**ck?”
Vuole svuotarmi le tasche!
“He wants to empty my pockets!”
After a 3,000-calorie dinner-and-drink session with your amici (friends), you decide to stroll back to your hotel instead of sharing a taxi with the others. En route you are stopped by a feeble woman in a flowery skirt with a back hunched 85 degrees more than it should be at her age. Cradling a pilly blanket in her arms, she moans pitifully while inching her way toward you. “Bambino, bambino, my baby, my baby. . .” She extends an open-palmed and filthy hand toward your bleeding heart.
What to do:
Put away the tissues, you sentimental fool! There is no starving baby inside that filthy rag. When was the last time you heard a hungry baby keep so quiet, anyway? You've just fallen victim to one of the most common yet ingenious ploys used on tourists in Italy.
