The Rain in Rome

Is it really supposed to rain this much? Before I got here I expected a few weeks of scattered showers, but suddenly the sun would break through the clouds and people would sing and dance in the streets. Kind of like Mamma Mia, but the Italian city version.

This has happened a couple times (the song and dance provided by me), but it’s always been a false alarm: a few days of sun, but once you put away the heavy coat forever you hear torrents of rain coming from the open window. This was al tolerable at first, but as midterms approach at school, I’m making the realization that half my time here, in sunny Italy, is going to be spent under an umbrella.

The Italians seem unperturbed by it, though inexperienced with it. They smack the umbrellas into the side of walls, street signs, and passersby. Getting anywhere has become a game of dodging the metal tips of umbrellas that follow you wherever you move. It’s no wonder half the population seems to walk around with broken umbrellas and street vendors are at every corner dangling their wares in your face, people here must got through an umbrella per week!

It’s also become clear that the rain is out to get me, like a personal vendetta for doubting its existence. My roommates decide to stay in, I make plans to go out: cue rain. I run out of eggs or milk: cue rain. I decide to work on my homework in the living room: cue an instant hurricane outside that knocks the windows open and drenches the papers that are now flying about the room.

When I decided to come to Italy, it was a decision based on wanting something different. I wanted a different culture, a different language, a different way of looking at life that would open up new ideas for me. Well, it doesn’t rain in Los Angeles, so I guess this is something different.