Italian men
I had a similar experience in Catania in Sicily whilst I was there for my 6 months abroad. I was happily crossing the Piazza Duomo to go to my friends house, when a tall man (well tall for a Sicilian anyway) stopped me and asked me for directions.

Him (in English - that's the only problem with being blonde abroad, nobody expects you to speak their language so everyone instantly tries English on you): Could you tell me the way to the station please?
Me: Which station, the bus or train?
Him: Doesn't matter.
Me: ...erm, ok...
Him: You are very beautiful, let's go for a drink
Me: *already scuttling off, blushing furiously*

And then EVERYDAY whilst we were having our granite in the usual cafe at about 5 o clock, he would walk past. The main street in Catania is just one huge long road, Via Etnea, that leads right to the foot of the volcano. And he would walk up and down, up and down, and just look at me. EVERYDAY! I mean, didn't he have a job? Didn't he get bored? We saw him everywhere and he never spoke to me again, he just looked.

/Shudders.
(Lucy Van Pelt embracing ginlovers, Fri 1 Feb 2008, 9:54, Reply)