when in rome....

so here's some things i've learned while in Rome...

Giuseppe, my host, is an amazing meteorologist. He told me it would rain at 11 on Saturday, and it started raining at 1030, and pouring by 11. He had given me an umbrella, so I was prepared.

There are such things as miracles.  I dropped my 18-135mm lens while at St Peter's Basilica in the Vatican; and it's still working. I mean, it hit the ground hard; I expected shattered lens or a bad dent; and so far, it's all good. I gave my change to the nuns at the souvenir shop as a thank you.

No only means No if he speaks the same language. I met an Italian last night who did not speak much English other than "oh my god" and "oooh baby". Trying to get him to understand that I did not want to go home with him, or want him to come home with me was the biggest linguistic challenge I have ever experienced.

Prego is not just a spaghetti sauce.

When in doubt, follow the gays. I was on the metro, going to a new neighborhood to try and find "discotheque" to go do some dancing. I saw some gays and a girl get off at my stop, so I followed them; I second guessed my gaydar and decided to turn left when they turned right, and I got lost; when I tried to backtrack they were gone. Later in the evening, I found the club; it was down the street the gays had been on; I will never doubt my gaydar again...

Italian coffee and a kebab wrap at 4 a.m. is better than any bran muffin you've ever eaten. No wonder there's so many skinny Italians here...

Rome should be called the City of Love, La citta di amore, because it is just like love: dirty, beautiful, old, and modern. I haven't seen or heard any fighting between all the couples I've seen, and I have yet to see any parents yell at their children....la dolce vita indeed.

I realized I like tight jeans on men. I'm just saying, when they fit, they fit nice. And I wish more American men would wear clothes that fit, instead of the oversized Sean John crap...but it does make me ask that age old question: gay or european?