It is, of course, impossible not to comment on the vast (though sometimes subtle) cultural distinctions between us American gringoes and our Italian (and, by extrapolation, European) counterparts. To try and assign a single adjective to the Italian mindset... I might use the term "laid back."
Although belied by the sporadic outbursts of loud, public drama (a woman yelling at her husband, a driver loudly honking his irritation), Italians are remarkably laid back. Jaywalking is rampant. As are graffitti and street litter. And dog droppings.
Everything is relative. Shop hours for the markets and businesses here are rarely posted--and even then are malleable and meant to be broken. The "lunch hour" is rarely less than two, and most shops close in the mid afternoon for a nap and some downtime. (Seriously--imagine the customer outrage if your local Starbucks was closed between 3:00 and 5:30.) Dogs are loud, here, and bark incessantly. Mothers and wives seem to bark incessantly, too--at their husbands, their kids, their dogs, and anybody else passing within earshot. Somehow, even after a couple weeks, it's still somewhat musical and soothing--there's nothing quite like the sweet music of a couple of Italians barking at each other in the rhythmical, opera-like cadence of the world's only language that seems to require all its speakers to communicate in verse.
And it's frankly hard to tell the difference between outright animosity and brotherly bonhomie. Just as you're expecting punches to fly between two barking Italians on the street--they break out into grins and kiss each other on both cheeks. What you were previously certain were curse-laden diatribes turned out to have been sincere and animated expressions of greeting and affection.
Probably the most striking social norm witnessed here (through an American lens, of course) is the general sense of body space. Here, body space is minute--Italians think nothing of bumping and jostling and elbowing their way past you onto the subway train (with nary a "scusi" muttered over the shoulder), or practically standing on top of you in line at the market--even the concept of a "line" (what the Brits call queueing) is far-fetched here. Any piece of unoccupied space is fair game.
Especially for parking on the crowded streets. It's amusing to imagine the typical suburban-American parking lot, then mentally add twice as many (but half the size) cars jammed in between dumpsters, on sidewalks, in tiny alleyways. Here, it's common to see tiny toy-looking cars parked perpendicularly in between parallel-parked cars on the street. Those that *do* parallel park are often boxed in by drivers blatantly double- and triple-parking--some of them presumably very short-term arrangements (as signaled by emergency flashers). But "short-term" is surely relative, here--more than once I've seen a driver return to his car, and lay on the horn until the driver of the vehicle that had boxed him in returns (from enjoying his cappuccino, presumably) to let him pass. Cars are crammed into every available square meter of space--on curbs, sidewalks, medians, building entryways...
With motorcycles and scooters filling in all the cracks. Clearly, there are little to no parking laws (observed, anyway), when it comes to scooters. I've seen scooters parked in absolutely every configuration imaginable. Between cars. Leaning against trees. On sidewalks. On urban staircases. On median strips between lanes of major roadways.
It's amusing (and it's not without a touch of irritation) to recall the parking ticket I'd once received in California, for parking in the wrong direction (against traffic) on a sleepy, suburban, residential street where my car was nearly always the only car on this side of the street for a block or more. Here (in Italy, and presumably much of Europe and Asia), people cram their cars and scooters into every last square inch of navigable space. There (in the States), you get a ticket if your car isn't lined up perfectly and aesthetically with all the other cars. It's hard to argue with the common perception that Americans are inordinately "uptight"...
Driving (though I've only been a passenger) is a similar affair. Motorcycles and scooters travel absolutely wherever they want--between lanes, on the left, on the right, on the sidewalk. And the timid, suburban American driver beware--it's a very Darwinian exercise to navigate the streets of Rome behind the wheel of a car. It's amusing, once again, to compare this attitude with that of Americans. Here, you don't wait for an opening in traffic to merge or turn onto a cross-street. You wait for a 3-foot gap between cars, you step on the gas, and you know that other drivers will respond accordingly (otherwise, you'll sit idle for hours). And you don't use turn signals. Stop signs are a suggestion. And if a pedestrian is not DIRECTLY in front of your car, then that space is fair game. I have witnessed the following scenario: One pedestrian a third of the way across a crosswalk, another pedestrian two thirds of the way across, and a motorino zooming between the two at 40 miles per hour. You really must give both drivers and pedestrians a lot of credit. Italians decide what they're going to do, and do it. They take care of themselves, take responsibility for their own actions, and assume that others will do the same.
It's refreshing, frankly, to contemplate such a mindset. Picture the typical, road-rage-prone, American, alpha-male SUV driver, angrily shaking his fist at you for driving too slowly, or for merging into his lane too close to his precious bumper.
Seriously? La vita e dolce. Get over it.