Why Tourists and Expats Should Look Past the Postcard Version of the Eternal CityWe grow up watching movies and shows and reading books about the wonderful streets of Rome. The magnificent Colosseum, grand Vatican City, and ancient ruins hidden just beneath the surface. There’s amazing food, easy-going people, and a perfect place all around. But most people who come to Rome note their sense of “culture shock.” Why? Because of this sparkling perspective of Rome that we’re all fed, only to realize it’s just a facade for the true nature of the city.While reading articles and searching for ideas on the lifestyle of Rome, something vital stood out—they were all painting a picture of a city that didn’t exist, especially to those who’ve lived here for some time. They weren’t entirely wrong, but think of tourists scouring articles online to plan their trip, and you can’t help but feel like we’re setting them up for failure—and even disappointment. Let’s start with this idea from an article about living in Rome: “It’s like stepping into a fairytale.” Not wrong! The moment you get off that plane, stamp your passport, and step into the world of Rome, it’s all romance and glory. The bustling city, wonderful sites—until you’re trying to figure out how to use public transport, or paying for a taxi (or, let’s face it, an Uber, since lots of tourists don’t understand how to order a local taxi) just to get to your Airbnb. The fairytale aspect comes more from our internal expectations of the city than from the city itself. Obviously, it is wonderful in many ways, but it’s also nerve-wracking trying to figure it out for the first time, especially without a friend to guide you along. “A historic site at every corner!” Sure—if you’re in the center of the city (which is arguably the Pantheon, though the Colosseum is a strong contender when considering tourist spots). The Eternal City holds a deep, ancient air. Everything feels a little old, a little dingy, and battered. It’s been worn down with time, jagged corners of the Roman Empire rounded, and once-majestic buildings often reduced to piles of rubble. But as modern Rome grows, so too must it decide what to preserve and what to sacrifice to evolution. The neighborhoods where most Roman citizens live share this old, timeless energy, but with far less debris. The buildings are old because of their infrastructure, which allows them to stand longer than Americans are used to. If you choose to only stay in the historic parts of town, then sure—there will be a piece of history at every corner, every alleyway. But if you stick with the crowds, standing and gawking at the Colosseum, you are doing the city a disservice. “Most people speak English, so you can get by with no Italian!” Again, on paper, it’s true. But you’re doing a disservice to the people of this city. Unlike other tourist towns like Venice, which has fewer than 50,000 residents in its historic center, Rome is thriving with couples, families, and working people trying to get by. This is a place where people are born, grow, and die—not just a spectacle for us foreigners. Most expats also struggle with Italian, but simply trying—offering a polite salve or buongiorno, placing an order in Italian, or replying prego when someone holds the door—can go a long way in mending the expat reputation among Romans. Tourists and expats are in their city, not our own, and every action we take should reflect our respect for their home. So even if you’re a tourist, just learning non parlo italiano, sono americano/a (“I don’t speak Italian, I’m American”) can go a long way in building patience and mutual respect. This may come across as Rome being painted in a negative light, or as a warning to tourists and expats not to come, but that isn’t the intention. Rome is a magnificent city that will be missed dearly once you leave or move away—plans are already being made to return. But time spent here also crafts a realistic view of Rome, one full of flaws, quiet backroads, and parents walking their young children to school. Rome is alive and thriving, and, in all honesty, tourists and expats can make it difficult for locals to live there. We drive up prices, prompting landlords to rent on Airbnb and Booking rather than to residents. We crowd magnificent cultural sites, watching through our phone cameras rather than with our eyes. We choose to use the city for our own pleasure rather than let it whisk us into the past. So here is a proposal: do your sightseeing, take all your pictures, and eat homemade pasta. But also struggle with public transport, stumble through Italian, and explore quiet residential streets. Allow yourself to find a bench and sit for a while. Watch as an old lady carries groceries in one hand and the leash of a tiny dog in the other. A mother getting on the bus and politely asking for a seat—not for herself, but for her two young children on their way to school. A group of teenagers, fresh out of school, chasing alongside the bus with hopes of hopping on, only to laugh and joke about it afterward. Not only is the city alive, but its people are too. We are in their world, and while we may try to borrow it for a while, let’s instead join them and see the city as they see it: home. Ph:  Luciano Gerini / Shutterstock.com

We grow up watching movies and shows and reading books about the wonderful streets of Rome. The magnificent Colosseum, grand Vatican City, and ancient ruins hidden just beneath the surface. There’s amazing food, easy-going people, and a perfect place all around. But most people who come to Rome note their sense of “culture shock.” Why? Because of this sparkling perspective of Rome that we’re all fed, only to realize it’s just a facade for the true nature of the city. While reading articles and searching for ideas on the lifestyle of Rome, something vital stood out—they were all painting a picture of a city that didn’t exist, especially to those who’ve lived here for some time. They weren’t entirely wrong, but think of tourists scouring articles online to plan their trip, and you can’t help but feel like we’re setting them up for failure—and even disappointment. Let’s start with this idea from an article about living in Rome: “It’s like stepping into a fairytale.” Not wrong! The moment you get off that plane, stamp your passport, and step into the world of Rome, it’s all romance and glory. The bustling city, wonderful sites—until you’re trying to figure out how to use public transport, or paying for a taxi (or, let’s face it, an Uber, since lots of tourists don’t understand how to order a local taxi) just to get to your Airbnb. The fairytale aspect comes more from our internal expectations of the city than from the city itself. Obviously, it is wonderful in many ways, but it’s also nerve-wracking trying to figure it out for the first time, especially without a friend to guide you along. “A historic site at every corner!” Sure—if you’re in the center of the city (which is arguably the Pantheon, though the Colosseum is a strong contender when considering tourist spots). The Eternal City holds a deep, ancient air. Everything feels a little old, a little dingy, and battered. It’s been worn down with time, jagged corners of the Roman Empire rounded, and once-majestic buildings often reduced to piles of rubble. But as modern Rome grows, so too must it decide what to preserve and what to sacrifice to evolution. The neighborhoods where most Roman citizens live share this old, timeless energy, but with far less debris. The buildings are old because of their infrastructure, which allows them to stand longer than Americans are used to. If you choose to only stay in the historic parts of town, then sure—there will be a piece of history at every corner, every alleyway. But if you stick with the crowds, standing and gawking at the Colosseum, you are doing the city a disservice. “Most people speak English, so you can get by with no Italian!” Again, on paper, it’s true. But you’re doing a disservice to the people of this city. Unlike other tourist towns like Venice, which has fewer than 50,000 residents in its historic center, Rome is thriving with couples, families, and working people trying to get by. This is a place where people are born, grow, and die—not just a spectacle for us foreigners. Most expats also struggle with Italian, but simply trying—offering a polite salve or buongiorno, placing an order in Italian, or replying prego when someone holds the door—can go a long way in mending the expat reputation among Romans. Tourists and expats are in their city, not our own, and every action we take should reflect our respect for their home. So even if you’re a tourist, just learning non parlo italiano, sono americano/a (“I don’t speak Italian, I’m American”) can go a long way in building patience and mutual respect. This may come across as Rome being painted in a negative light, or as a warning to tourists and expats not to come, but that isn’t the intention. Rome is a magnificent city that will be missed dearly once you leave or move away—plans are already being made to return. But time spent here also crafts a realistic view of Rome, one full of flaws, quiet backroads, and parents walking their young children to school. Rome is alive and thriving, and, in all honesty, tourists and expats can make it difficult for locals to live there. We drive up prices, prompting landlords to rent on Airbnb and Booking rather than to residents. We crowd magnificent cultural sites, watching through our phone cameras rather than with our eyes. We choose to use the city for our own pleasure rather than let it whisk us into the past. So here is a proposal: do your sightseeing, take all your pictures, and eat homemade pasta. But also struggle with public transport, stumble through Italian, and explore quiet residential streets. Allow yourself to find a bench and sit for a while. Watch as an old lady carries groceries in one hand and the leash of a tiny dog in the other. A mother getting on the bus and politely asking for a seat—not for herself, but for her two young children on their way to school. A group of teenagers, fresh out of school, chasing alongside the bus with hopes of hopping on, only to laugh and joke about it afterward. Not only is the city alive, but its people are too. We are in their world, and while we may try to borrow it for a while, let’s instead join them and see the city as they see it: home. Ph:  Luciano Gerini / Shutterstock.com