The oddest example was once when I was standing around looking at the Duomo in Florence a man came up to me out of nowhere and asked if I was American. I said yes, and he made a rude gesture with his arms, muttered something in Italian that didn't sound nice at all, and stomped off.

Well, there are nut cases everywhere and folks fixate on all sorts of grievances, both real and imagined. When were you there? We weren't invading anybody at the time, were we?

Many of the WWII-generation have gone to there graves, but when I traveled around Europe from Germany in the 70s, there were plenty of folks with war-related baggage, good and bad. I remember a somewhat crazed guy who hung around the train station in Mainz. He'd approach groups of GIs with "American? American?" and start shaking hands. The catch was that he had just one finger and a thumb on that hand (which was quickly evident as he pressed the flesh). I wonder to this day, "Was this guy really thanking us for saving him from getting killed or something? ..... or was this his way to make a whole bunch of Americans uncomfortable with a possible subtext of 'Hey, thanks a shitload America for shooting off my hand!'" No way to know.

And there were other folks like this. I sometimes felt like a magnet for quirky old gents on trains. I remember with pleasure, though, the Italian guy on a train who was thrilled to hear I was from Boston...wanted to know how things were going since he had spent time in Boston as a POW. He probably never got to hear about the Big Dig.

I'd say maybe the rudest treatment I ever received was in Italy, but in Florence -- talk about a touristized town. Someday I'll have to see some of the real Italy.