The first job I had in Italy was teaching English in Rome. I mostly gave private lessons to CEOs, managers and politicians in their offices. The school I worked for was based near the central Termini train station, where the two Roman subway lines meet, and I often spent hours passing the time between my lessons in that area.
I think I managed to have something at every bar (‘bar’ meaning coffee bar) near Termini during that period. A cappuccino here. A caffè there. An afternoon snack consisting of a tuna and artichoke tramezzino (half sandwich) and glass of fruit juice somewhere else. I quickly learned that no one drinks cappuccino after lunch and that if you come too late in the morning all of the good pastries are gone.
During my first couple of years in Italy, my husband used to tell me that I smiled too much with strangers. He was right. Rome is a big city and there are plenty of gypsies and lunatics that are ready to take advantage of a friendly person. I couldn’t help it. I have lived in New York, London and Hong Kong, but have always probably been a bit too friendly with people I don’t know. You can take the girl out of Iowa, but you can’t take the ingrown desire to let other people know that you are a nice person out of the girl. I’m a bit more careful now.
The fact that I was usually pretty friendly and spoke little of the language probably endeared me to many of the baristas. I became a regular at certain bars. I loved walking in and hearing, “Buongiorno, signorina!” My favorite thing to order was a cappuccino because four out of five times I would get a bunny rabbit or a heart design in the foam from a barista. It would always make my day to get one.
For some reason, that doesn’t happen anymore. I haven’t had a heart or bunny in my cappuccino in years. Maybe it’s the wedding ring. Or maybe I look more Italian or my accent is less noticeable. Maybe I’m just less friendly. Kind of a bummer.
I still love the culture of Italian bars. It is a meeting place. It is a place to take a break, forget everything for a minute and treat yourself.
There are people who pop in, down an espresso, pay and pop out in less than a minute. Most Italians have their breakfast standing at the bar with a cornetto (croissant) or ciambella (sugar doughnut). The majority of people do not sit, although some bars do serve lunch. There are those, usually in smaller towns like mine, who sit and read a newspaper or talk about work or the weather with their friends for a few minutes. If you sit long enough in a small town, someone you know will pop in to say hello to. If a bar in a small town has tables outside, often you will find a group of retired men playing cards or just watching the world go by.
In the afternoon, there may be someone having their after-lunch espresso (a necessity for most Italians, which I have adopted), a mid-day coffee break, a Crodino (non-alcoholic bitter – see video below) with peanuts, or something alcoholic.
You won’t see any students doing their homework or young professionals working on laptops or reading romance novels for hours in an Italian bar. They come in, but they are there for a quick breakfast or an afternoon break with coworkers or friends.
These days, I like to pop over to the local bar with The Italian a couple of times a week. I always have a cappuccino and a warm cornetto with white chocolate. Mmmm. We sit for ten minutes or so and just watch people (the Italian is usually done with his breakfast after about a minute, but my American habit of slowly sipping my coffee is slow to die). It’s a good way to start the day, with or without frothy bunny rabbits.
Boh. 
