In America, you learn early that the rules of the road apply on the sidewalk: Use your peripheral vision, travel on the right side, make room for others, roughly half the lane is yours, the other half is for those approaching you.
Italians also apply a driving sensibility to walking: As in, it's one big game of chicken. In theory, you also walk on the right side here. Unless there are two older women walking arm in arm, a mother with a toddler, four teen-agers walking abreast or a big burly man coming your way. Then, it's a test of your fortitude.
Like the streets, sidewalks inexplicably narrow and widen at random. All the while, you're dodging dog doo dotting the pathway, people blindly walking out of stores without a care for who may be on the path at that moment and the men who peel off to pee on a tree or a wall.
A bump of the shoulder or brush of the bag is not considered rude. Only true body slams result in cursing.
In an effort to adjust, there are two strategies: the passive and the aggressive. The low-key approach is to look down, feigning absorption in your own thoughts. Usually, the person taking up your space will move out of the way. For the daring, you can attempt a staredown, making eye contact as you get closer. This only works if the other person can be intimidated.
I'm starting to plow into people. When in Florence....
Italian graffiti artists use stencils to express general discontent with government, globalization and American "culture." But stencils are also used as politicians' ads, to make little visual jokes and to advertise the boundaries of neighborhoods around Florence.
Here, they don't tear down or shutter their grand old theaters--they use them. So, I get to go to a gilt palace called the Odeon, near Piazza della Repubblica in the center of town. 
