mi dispiace.

The wrong way: dismiss all the conversational skills you just learned in Italian class and speak only in English to avoid the chore of internally reinforcing the Italian culture. Tourist.

The Wright way: use what you've learned. Find other resources to create relationships with your Italian neighbors, each day shattering another window of the language barrier.

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Speaking Italian outside of class has helped us out, not only with finding out how to get from place to place [there's this magical word called "dov'e"], but with saving a few euro here and there. It's amazing how funds seem to go through your hands. This is the first time I've had to buy and prepare my own food. No cafeteria here. The realization of the "cost of living" has gotta be some milestone on the way to complete independence.

There are a few places you can get produce from. Veggies, fruit, and spices are all over Campo, morning espresso from a bar is a convenience, and the supermarket has sales....
... and rude rude rude rude cashiers named Paolo who chuck your bottles of wine and anything else fragile or delicately, flakely baked AT you. And he sighs dramatically when you don't have exact change. Do yourself a favor; go to the longer line and avoid the Paolo in your life. Everybody has one. Chances are, he'll make your life crumby.

At Campo, I frequent one certain fruit and vegetable stand [it's a strategy]. I've been speaking my best broken Italian to the guy in charge, and I think he appreciates that I try. At 1,79/kg for apples, the price matches all the other stands, but when he rings me up for weight, he always shaves off about 0,40E.
This morning before class, Lisa and I visited the same bar we had once before and introduced ourselves to the baristo, whose name is Sergio. We started teaching him English. I'm hoping our loyalty will buy us discounted caffeine. This is an experiment.