Rome, Italy
I’m not a journalist, but I do love journalism.
We visited La Repubblica today, which is a huge newspaper in Italy. Really, just the fact that I was there is mind-blowing. While I did enjoy their presentation. I genuinely throught that I peed myself during it.
I was prepared to stand up and see a wet spot on the stool. Fortunately, I was able to (actually) empty my bladder soon after. Private restrooms, man. Everybody there was kind beyond measure despite their tight deadlines and busy schedules (I know how strenuous it is when you have to put together a weekly newspaper, let alone a daily one like they do).
It shocked me how serene the newsroom itself was—nobody was yelling orders, nobody was lurched over their computers, crying. I was also amazed at how eccentric their decorations were, with the aesthetically-pleasing fishbowl and giant, luminescent “R.”
Because of my high school background of working at the newspaper and eventually copy editing at the Globe, I really appreciate these kind of environments. As well, the main character of my story is a journalist, so I gained some inspiration from being in their newsroom.
For this post, I have metaphorical conclusion… mostly because I’m still feeling the effects of the wine I drank.
Bonus comment: Collectively, we are horrible Americans who cannot order at resturants to save our lives and thoroughly irriate the waitresses/waiters as a result. The brightside to this is that we figured out how to split our check tonight. Bless up, queer-munications majors.
