F**K You, Katy Perry! - 9/9

Have you ever left the Spanish channel on for more than a few minutes? I especially enjoy the commercials, when you get the fast-paced Spanish speaking announcer that is flying through his words and then, suddenly, in English he’ll say something like, “McDonalds!” or “Coca-Cola!” That gives me a good chuckle.

Well, a similar situation occurred yesterday while Danielle and I attempted to navigate our way – in our rented Mercedes – through the streets of Verona to the Autostrade (super highway traveled by homicidal Italians) and beyond.

We had just pulled out of the rental car parking lot and Danielle flipped on the radio. The DJ was talking about something when suddenly he slipped out of Italian and in English said, “California Girls!”
To which I promptly responded, “No, no, no - F**k you, Katy Perry!”

Yes, folks, that summertime hit with the catchy beat and the inexplicable Snoop-Dogg intermezzo has saturated the Italian airwaves. Before leaving the States I was on Katy Perry overload – and I don’t even listen to the radio stations that play her music. The damn song just won’t go away.
In Paris, it was playing in a souvenir shop. In Switzerland, someone had it as their ring tone. And here en Italia we heard it twice on the radio while driving from Verona to Mondaino.
This morning while we explored this tiny hill-town with our gracious host Anna (more on her and the amazing Mondaino tomorrow), we stopped into the one gellateria in town to pick up some dessert. While Anna ordered I stared in awe of the narrow cobblestone streets and panoramic vista guarded by this quiet Italian hill-town. If one can ever be totally content with a place, it would happen to everyone in Mondaino. No English. No hot water. Barely any TV. I left America aiming to escape for a few weeks – success lives here.
Apparently, Katy Perry does too. “Ca-Li-For-Nia Girls, blah blah blah blah blah blah” popped on over the gellateria’s radio. If I knew how to swear in Italian, I would have.
So thank you Italian radio for reminding me how pervasive – and sometimes invasive – American Pop Culture can be. And to Katy Perry . . . F**k You.

(Note: We're in Tuscany - havent had internet since Verona, expect a few blog posts coming about our whirlwind visit with family and the gorgeous Tuscan countryside)