Italian men.

When you think of Italian men, you think of this:

or this:

or maybe even this:

But, I have a very different experience of Italian men.

In the past week and a half, I have had FOUR incidences of some sort of serious sexual harassment.

1) I take a bus up to Citta Alta three times a week for my Italian lesson. I was sitting in a seat against the window when a 60 year old man (obviously unsure of his age, not the first question on my mind at the time) extended his arms to the bars on either side of me, so I couldn't exit. I had my earphones in, and ignored him, hoping he would just give up and go away. When I arrived at my stop, I attempted to get up, having to elbow him out my way, and he proceeded to block the door of the bus so I had to touch him again to get off. He, obviously with no previous intention, gets off at my stop and follows me, even at my quickened pace, under a tunnel that ends in a public piazza. I stopped dead in my tracks hoping he would just overtake me and leave me alone. Alas, he didn't. He stopped right next to me and passed some repulsive comment while I shouted, "LASCIAMI IN PACE!" (Leave me alone) so everyone in the piazza turned their heads and watched as he walked away from me with his sleazy tail between his legs.

2) I take the train regularly, to and from school, and most weekends when I go to Milan or Lecco. There is an unsaid train etiquette when it comes to seats that everybody is aware of. In each 'booth', there are 4 seats - 2 x 2 that face each other on each side of the train. You always opt to sit diagonally opposite to someone, rather than directly next to, or directly opposite - there is more space, there's no awkward "Where do I put my legs" problem, and there's no need for eye-contact. If there are free seats available in another booth, you take them.

I was on a train to Milan on Friday, and I took my place diagonally opposite a sweet-looking old man, and I was sitting on the aisle. Next to me (on the other side of the train, but maybe a metre away) sat a 30-ish year old man also sitting on the aisle, with NOBODY else sitting in his booth. I noticed him looking at me, even when I accidentally made eye-contact with him, he continued staring at me like I was a piece of meat. I ignored him, and looked out the window on my other side hoping he would just give up. He got out of his seat, and came to sit directly opposite me. He continued staring, more intently now, up and down my body. It was when he licked his lips that I uncrossed my legs in an attempt to get up and move away from him, that he opened his legs wide and stared at his crotch. I bolted for another set of seats so he couldn't see me anymore, and he MOVED so he could see me in the hole between the headrests.

3) On the metro yesterday morning, a cross-eyed, presumably homeless, man stared me down as I got on the metro, passed a comment, which I ignored. I walked away, not being able to change carriages in the metro, and he leaned forward in his seat and carried on looking at me. Luckily I only had 1 more stop at this point, and ran out of there.

4) The most dramatic, by far the most traumatising, experience I have had. A girlfriend and I were walking back from the synagogue on Sunday at about noon, on our way to the Rabbi and Rebbetzin's home for Shavuot lunch. The Rebbetzin, her two nieces and two daughters, her mother, and a few other guests walked at a slower pace about 20 metres behind us. As Loren and I talked and walked, I noticed a middle-aged man sitting on his bicycle about 10 metres ahead. I saw him looking at me, so as we approached, I diverted my eyes to the floor to avoid the eye-contact, and as my eyes descended, I noticed that he was legitimately masturbating while looking at me. His entire...um...pene e palle, were out in the open, broad daylight in the middle of a street in Milan. And it stared me straight in the eye. #scarredforlife
I SCREAMED (in English), adrenaline pumping, "ARE YOU FUCKING JOKING?!" and the sick bastard cycled away.

5) (I know I said 4, but another one happened since I began writing this post.) I was waiting for my train that was in ritardo this afternoon, and a 30-something year old man approached me and sat next to me on the bench. He asked if he could show me around the town, asked repeatedly if he could see me again, and kept on touching my leg with his track-marked arm. I don't date 30-year old drug-users. Thanks for the offer anyway, bro. He finally left me alone after the Portughese lady on my other side started making conversation with me about my theoretical boyfriend, like we were besties. Life-saver.

Listen, don't get me wrong. It's flattering when a guy hoots his horn (and no, that is not an analogy. I mean literally hooting the horn of his car) at you, assuming he is within a 15 year age difference (eliminating the 4 year olds, in my case) and not vulgar about it.

In the meantime, I need to buy myself some mace.

Come at me, bros.

Napoli, Casserta, Sorrento, Capri, Roma.

I see that the frequency of my posts are exponentially decreasing every month, and I cannot believe the pressure people have been putting on me to write - thank you for your support :)

Anyway, I'm not going to bore you with the usual topics of conversation. This entry is reserved solely for travel stories and pics.

A few weeks ago, I, along with 20-something (I think 22...not sure) of my exchange companions, ventured cross-boot-country to test out the notorious Nepolitan pizza (didn't happen - will explain later), the ruins, and the general Southern hospitality.

Leaving Milan at the crack of dawn and departing for Salerna, arriving in Naples and schlepping our shit (for some reason, I had the brilliant idea to share a large suitcase with a friend, thinking that it would make things easier for us. It didn't. Double the clothes = double the weight, FYI), to the baggage deposit of one of the ruins-sites surrounding Vesuvius (okes are too alternative for Pompei, apparently.) Regardless of the troubles, I got a glimpse of the ocean from the train and realised how much I actually missed the sea. I take it so for granted having a view of the ocean from my home.

So CIRCUMVESUVIUS it was. In all its lack of glory. We were ushered into a seafood restaurant on the second floor of a building, and all 27 of us were served by one 90-year-old man, who required to go down in the elevator to the kitchen to fetch the food, 2 plates at a time. Great start. At least we got wine.

After seeing the ruins, we trained (verb?) to Sorrento and I was absolutely blown away by the number of go(o)d-looking people. EVERYWHERE. And what an exquisite little city. One of the things I miss terribly about Cape Town is the never-ending 'vibe' - something indescribable, but you notice it when it's missing. The streets were pumping with busy, happy people.

When you get taken away on a heavily sponsored trip, you expect to eat dump food. Being surprised with a full hotel breakfast the following morning was the beginning of, what I think, was my favourite day. Of my life. Ever. (Start with pancakes, and you start with joy.)We walked to the dock and boarded a “ferry” (looked like a cargo-ship) and headed off to Capri. Despite first impressions, the cargo-ship was home to a casino and other such luxuries. Happiness.

Listen, I've never been to Greece, but I imagine that Capri is what Greece looks like. By far the most beautiful place I have ever seen in my entire life. Pictures to follow. Capri is famous for its attraction of celebrities, and pictures of George Clooney, Beyonce and Jay-Z, Ronaldo and Federer, were seen eating at various restaurants across the island.

We hiked down to a pebble beach with water as clear as can be, and ate an amazing lunch on the resturant deck that extends over the water.

The hike up was made bearable by the premise of lemon granita at the top - 3 weeks later, and I'm still thinking about how phenomenal that was. Our free time was aimed at "shopping", but unfortunately an exchange student's budget does not cover Salvatore Ferregamo or Prada. Instead, we wondered around aimlessly in awe of the beauty, looking for something more productive to do, when we smelt it. The most amazing smell I have ever smelt. A group of about 6 of us legitimately walked around with our noses in the air sniffing out the smell, which after 20 minutes, led us to a gelateria where the waffle cones, the source of the smell, were made as you ordered. Needless to say that was the most satisfying waffle cone ever.

We returned to our hotel in Sorrento, tanned and satisfied with a wonderful day.

The next day we were driven to Nerano, a pinnacle in Sorrento, and walked the Baia di Jeranto all the way down to the beach at the bottom. The terrain was quite rough and the hike exhausting but the views proved worth the discomfort.

When we got back to the centre, we were so exhausted, but were informed of our next tour - the wood museum. With sore calves and closing eyes, we slumped through the museum and managed to get excitement only from the wooden bed-frames - waiting hopefully for an offer to try it out. The offer never came.

After an hour of unproductive, gelato-filled (although that is always productive), we returned to our usual dinner spot - a restaurant off one of the main roads in the old city. After the meal, a handful of us were standing outside the restaurant getting some fresh air, and obviously talking very loudly. All of a sudden, a bucket of water was thrown over us from someone's balcony above us. We were open-mouthed, speechless, and sopping wet. No warning. No "shut-up". Just chuck a bucket of water on me. Thanks, bro.

We left Sorrento the following morning, and started the next leg of our trip in Casserta - the home to the Spanish King's paland (old king, obviously.) Definitely the best museum-esque tour we've had. An interesting tour guide who spoke in Italian we could understand and showed us things we thought were cool. After the tour, we had a picnic and free time in the king's garden 'round back. Just your average back yard.

We got on another train and headed for Rome. Now, the next 3 days are a bit confused, because there was a strike on the one day so we kind of mixed our itinerary around a bit.

Between the flashmob dance we did outside the Coloseum, to the race up the Spanish Steps, to getting our faces characatured in a Piazza, meeting and conversing with prostitutes on the streets, predending to throw coins in the Trevi Fountain, and rapping commercial songs in weird accents in public, we did all the normal touristy things. Maybe it was because our time was so short that I felt like Rome is incredibly overrated, but being with exchange friends made the time incredible. W

e boarded the train in Rome and headed back to Milan, sad to separate and say goodbye.

Overall, the trip has been the highlight of my exchange so far.