“May I fly back to Italy with you? All I need to carry with me is my dog, is that ok? Please!”
Being Italian in the United States never generates banal reactions. The first sentence cited above has been said by an Uber driver during one of my first days in Philadelphia. She was very excited thinking about the Italian food, the nice weather and all the beautiful places you can see on movies and TV shows. It is always nice when people appreciate your culture and the places where you come from, however, in Italy we grew up with the American myth and with the belief that on the other side of the ocean everything gets better (except for the food maybe). It is just curious listening from the people we somehow envy, how much they sometimes envy us.
Every time I was asked where I came from, the following words and gestures are usually linked to some Italian stereotypes that have become widely accepted and shared all around the world: Italian food is usually at first place; otherwise, speaking an Italian word (or an improvised mix of Spanish and Italian) combined with the classical move of the “shaking hands”. It has usually been a warm connection so far. The ungraceful attempt of speaking an Italian word and copying some gestures is never intended to offend; indeed, it is generally a way of starting a nice conversation and trying to learn new words and facts about the differences between Italy and the US.
Since I arrived at the International Airport of Philadelphia, I have met many different people, from many different countries, speaking many different languages. I think it is common and usual for the US citizens to interact with foreigners, because of the history of this country and all the diverse origins its inhabitants have. The respect they showed in every conversation, and in every interaction with me derives from this consolidated cohabitation of cultural mixes; it happened very few times, since I arrived, that I did not feel comfortable and fully “accepted” during a conversation. Moreover, I feel Italians have a privileged spot among European citizens. Maybe for the big number of Italian immigrants the US had in the last generations, or maybe just for the sympathy our country usually exports with its people, it is easily perceptible people here are even nicer and more helpful when they know I am Italian.
I think the United States of America is the right place where an individual can both learn from and teach to each other every single day. I have been given the conditions in which every encounter could bring me deeper in someone else’s world, or could bring someone else closer to my Italy. Even with their dog.