Italy Unanswered

My honeymoon to Italy allowed me to answer many nagging questions -- is the Pope's hair really that white (yes), is Michaelangelo's David everything it's made out to be (moreso), would I be bold enough to try the bidet (no).

But there were many imponderables in Europe. We may never know why Rome's wine bars only play hits from the '80s (Tusut me, Wham never broke up in Italy) or why nuns across the world are all so short.

But more vexing than either of those was why the French are so rude. Mrs. NaturalBlog and I took Air France via Charles de Gaulle airport to Rome, and while we were impressed with the food (and wine -- a nice viognier) we thought the service left something to be desired. Maybe it's because we didn't even try to speak French to the staff, and our assumption they would speak to us in English rubbed them the wrong way.

I changed my game plan after we landed in Italy, asking people in my broken Italian if they spoke English. The answer always came "Yes" or "A little" or sometimes a polite "Not really."

So on the trip back I worked on my "Parlez vous anglais." The answer: "Oui" -- as if I were asking because I was taking a survey, not because I was a helpless tourist in a French airport.

Whatever. Keep you attitude, French people. I'll take Frenchy over you guys any day.