In Iraq, of course, I was living a day at a time thinking to myself “one more day survived.” In Israel, I was targeted by Palestinian militants and IDF soldiers alike. In Italy, I faced tear gas and rubber bullets from the swarm of police monitoring the rally in protest of President Bush, cautiously aware of the volatility of the world leaders’ mere presence.

The day began smoothly, my host had finished translating my last-minute speech into Italian, and we had agreed on and made revisions. After being stopped by a reporter for a national news distributor and giving a brief interview, he informed us that the national TV News station had scrolled across the screen (much like CNN’s news ticker) that an American Iraq veteran would be speaking against Bush as he strolled through the city. Phil Rushton, my host, and I shot raised eyebrows at each other and shrugged amazedly.

As we ran to catch up with the front of the march, crowds poured out from the alleyways, peered cautiously from balconies, and pumped fists in support of the demonstrations as it snaked through the historic city of Rome, a city whose citizens are well acquainted with imperialistic leaders. I darted along, trying as I could to take pictures and keep up with Phil. I couldn’t count how many times I was pulled at the shoulder by a curious bystander to read my IVAW t-shirt.

When we arrived at the venue, the Piazza Navona, I nervously scarfed a gelati (ice cream) to fill my growling stomach. The Navona is a popular tourist attraction, and to be honest, I was more nervous about encountering a patriotic American who would be offended by my address than I was at the riot-ready polizia (I had already been approached angrily after speaking at the Hawaii state capitol in October 2006). I envisioned a much smaller crowd, since as we passed the march trying to catch up, I thought I had a good idea how many people would turn out. I didn’t.

Some estimates ranged as high as 100,000, but I think it was closer to 60,000 at most. I was the first scheduled speaker, and was told to keep my message under ten minutes (with translation, so I wrote a five minute speech). I glanced at my two pages of notes and took a deep breath. Before I knew it, I was hoisted up on a truck fitted with audio equipment and was introduced in a fiery Italian monologue by an organizer. Well, here goes nothing…

Mostly it went well, and I paused for applause at a couple points. Near the end, when I introduced the element of religion, a couple of people near the front became irritable. Apparently anti-Pope sentiment was high as well with some of the crowd. When I had finished, a few people shook my hand from the stage and I slipped into the background to finish that deep breath I had started.

During other speakers’ addresses, there had been scuffles somewhere in the large crowd that attracted people’s attention. There was no activity at the front, where I was, and it was hard to figure out what was going on. The polizia near us at one point all strapped their chinstraps, nearly in unison. That made me become slightly concerned. Then they toed an invisible line. That’s when I really knew it was going to get interesting.

Surprisingly, the fray remained localized wherever it had begun, and the rally slowly wound down and the tension seemed to lift. Crowds moved toward the nearest street and began to fill city buses and trolleys on their way home. Phil and I were patiently waiting for an Italian senator that had contributed to bringing me to Italy and who wanted to talk. As we waited, we meandered nearby until we could find an appropriate time.

We were swept by the exiting crowds out of the piazza and eventually found ourselves near a barricade of polizia. Shouts and the sound of trouble grew from a distant whisper to a low murmur. We chatted about which pizzeria we wanted to celebrate at. It became more dense, like we were being forced into a crowded elevator. Phil liked the idea of an Irish pub after going to see another demonstration that drew much less attention. A loud pop and the smell of flowers alerted me to what might have been tear gas.

Phil and I finally began moving away from the core of the crowd, abandoning our hope of seeing the Senator. We watched from a short distance (apparently too short for Phil, who stood several meters behind me, unfamiliar and possibly uncomfortable with the experience of anarchical chaos). We watched nearby as polizia first swarmed the piazza, then withdrew, with more flowery tear gas smell and loud protests from the crowd not caught in the exchange. Hunger, and the knowledge that our presence may only add to the fluctuating intensity of the violence, drew us away from the fiasco.

Today I saw the headlines and front-page pictures throughout Rome. I walked by a bank window that had been smashed by protesters and plenty of graffiti attacking Bush. I had heard that the embassy in Rome had urged American citizens to avoid the demonstrations; for fear that they could become “targets of opportunity.” It would be horrific if US citizens were to be attacked without justification. Just as appalling as it would be to attack an entire country without reason or cause. Hmm.

Maybe I understand the frustration that the world feels when Bush strides through a foreign city, the avarice and ignorance he represents to so many across the world can be overwhelming. I have been amazed all week that one man could arouse such fervent anger and contempt wherever he goes. This morning, I read his response to the thousands upon thousands who have participated in protests throughout Europe. He said that the power of democracy is being shown, that they are enjoying their right to ‘disagree’ with him. Funny, the main idea I got about democracy from my 8th grade class on American politics is that a President is merely a servant to his people, not the other way around.

Was I worried about becoming a “target of opportunity?” Sure, plenty of Italians had ‘targeted’ me for the ‘opportunity’ to thank me for speaking against Bush’s policies, for fulfilling my civic duty as an American by dissenting against a President who does not represent the interests of his people.