Fascists Have Feelings Too

*note: you get two posts today, because I'm feeling especially wordy, and I haven't put up anything for awhile. Please scroll down to get to the other one. Ciao.

I wouldn't consider myself a risk taking person. I don't think too many people would. Rarely do I attempt dangerous things, like sky-diving (never), racing various things (like my dad), or bull-riding (never). I don't even really like roller coasters. The anticipation on that first hill always kills me. By the time the car arrives at the top, the repetitive clink-clink has all but convinced me imminent death approaches. So I sit back and read about others adventures. Or watch movies. I do that a lot. Even music is an outlet for me. I allow the lyrics to tell me a story, or let my imagination run with the flow of the beat. For the most part I live a safe existence, the typical weekend spent hanging out with friends and rehashing moments when adventure came looking for us, or God decided we should do something interesting without much input from us. I consider risk taking to be that of a physical nature.

Over the summer my dad told me that while I may never strap on a helmet and try to hit 200mph, by flying six time zones and an ocean away to a town where they don't speak English and living there for four months, I was doing something he could never imagine himself capable of. Up to that point, I hadn't thought of studying in Italy as a dangerous endeavor. It then occurred to me that everyone perceives risk in various ways. My dad was commenting largely on the fact that I had not made any plans for the first week I was to be in Rome, and was willing to simply wing it when I got there. I would be alone, and away from home without a friend for the first time. For the shy person who is my father, this was an impossible task. For me it was simply a way to gauge how I would deal with the major differences and language barrier at the beginning of my trip, instead of finding out later that I couldn't handle traveling by myself or being put in uncomfortable situations. The most I could lose would be my luggage and some money. If my life wasn't truly in danger, I didn't consider it a risk. But to the man whom I see driving cars on fire, wrecking innumerable times, and still climbing back in or on that seat, it was a social fear. I equate it to the times I'd see him take off on a bike and turn a corner. I hated when he rode far enough away that I couldn't hear the bike anymore, because that meant I couldn't tell if he was still going.

Since being here, I wouldn't say that I've gained any more of a risk taking personality. I have been involved in more dangerous situations than I ever would have encountered back home. A quick run down goes like this:
- walking around Termini with a duffel bag and no map at midnight in Rome, looking for a place to sleep.
- a small confrontation with a recently released from prison for rape drunk skinhead who doesn't really like America (more specifically, President Bush).
- being unable to call a taxi at three in the morning, again in Rome, while trying to find Ciampino Airport.
- second meeting with aforementioned skinhead.
- happening upon a march complete with Communists and Anarchists in Milan, who were relatively peaceful, but followed closely by about fifty police.
- and most recently, being in Prague during a Nazi march which broke into a riot and had cops flying all over the town all night long. No word if my friend was involved.

While I'm not searching these things out, I'm not attempting to actively avoid them either. In Milan I wanted to join the march for a little while. In Prague, I wanted to go see why there were ten cops in a bar smaller than Bagel Street. This weekend I'm going to look down into an active volcano, weather and Roman gods permitting. I'm beginning to understand why that cat died. There are so many things in this world to be curious about, it's impossible to discover all of them solely through books or movies. Music, however, provides a nice soundtrack.