tenses don't matter. tense doesn't matter.

May 30, 2008

New York Italian meets Italians from Italy. We go out to this club to listen to electronic music and bounce around, pretending like we can dance.  We speak Spanish to the Italians because they don’t speak English---well.  Joe, American Italian, tells our friends that his favorite dish is pasta.  Italians are always in disbelief when they hear that we (Americans) eat so much pasta/parmesan/provolone. (How many Italian immigrants did America have?) We talk about a town in Spain that only speaks Italian.  We agree that it has something to do with the expansion of the Roman Empire. Lauren goes home by taxi. We go get food at the 25-hour store and I get a present of Kinder chocolate. FYI: “kindergarten” is a German word.

This occurred after my 9 p.m. siesta. Previously in the day, I went to my internship and was assigned my first solo photoshoot. Thoughts that went through my head:

How can these people trust me so soon? [upon arrival] Why am I taking photos of a book release? This isn’t what I thought “photojournalism” entailed. [after waiting 15 minutes] Why are the Spanish always late? I miss being able to drink coffee while rushing around. and dryers. Why does everyone dress so similarly? My camera is so small. Do older women in the U.S. look this trashy? Am I at the right place? Will everyone be taking a siesta after this? [The author arrives and I begin to take photos] Why am I the only person taking photos? [all the photographers leave] Good. Less competition. [I turn around to see that everyone is serious and paying attention to the reader] What exactly is this book about? Ah yes. Terrorism and religion...

I am glad that I came here, to Europe. It’s probably the scariest position I have put myself into (and signing up to be a Brownie Girl Scout). What better way to learn about the things that I like and dislike pertaining to photojournalism than to place myself in a foreign country and tell myself that photography has to happen. It’s easy to take photos of people who speak your language and who know your customs. It’s a scary mess to have no idea what the people are saying and to not know what is appropriate. 

It's horribly wonderful to be lost.