Archive | Culture RSS feed for this section

Papa Francesco, the Marines and Me

6 Oct
“You are invited to an audience with the Pope,” said my friend Holly from Las Vegas. I knew there was an audience every Wednesday, and I knew there was some method to get tickets, but I never bothered to try and get them. Thanks to a quartet of visiting retired Marines, I was included in an invitation and tickets provided by the Bishop of Las Vegas. (Connections in our “business” are strange. Holly is a Protestant, like me, but her community activities on behalf of our employer bring her in touch with the Bishop and he offered
Night is just leaving the sky as I wait in the shadows, outside the colonnade.

Night is just leaving the sky as I wait in the shadows, outside the colonnade.

her this fabulous opportunity.)  So early one Wednesday morning in September, I made my way before dawn to Piazza San Pietro and stood in mob for 90 minutes, from 06:30 to 08:00, to gain entrance and get a good seat. Luckily we were blessed with a perfect autumn day and our early arrival meant seats right against the fence along the path Papa Francesco would take in his pope-mobile.
The first rays of sun hit St. Peter's Basilica shortly after we are admitted.

The first rays of sun hit St. Peter’s Basilica shortly after we are admitted.

Before dawn the Roman Metro is amazingly busy as working folks head to the places they maintain for our use during the working day. And never before have I taken the first bus out of our neighborhood at dark and lonely 05:30. Then the long walk to the piazza, around to the south side, past vendors of trinkets one can have blessed by his Holiness.  Rosaries, medallions, pictures, crosses, all available from probably-not-Catholic vendors from Pakistan.
There was a lot of waiting before the crowd began to murmur and there were glimpses of the great man riding through the square in his white open-top converted something-or-other. (Is it a Jeep?) The audience is supposed to being at 10:30, but this pope is known for starting early, at 10:00. Shortly before 10:00 he passed our forward position. I tell you the man radiates charm and goodwill!
Papa!

Papa!

The audience is conducted in seven languages: Italian, French, German, English, Polish, Spanish and Arabic. The Pope gives a homily in Italian, this is then paraphrased in each language. Special greetings are offered to pilgrimage groups in their languages, again repeated in each of the other languages. As each language is spoken the receptive native speakers cheer.  I was perplexed by the inclusion of Arabic. I have to say that after the Arabic portion, I did not hear any resounding cheers from an Arabic component. I have to wonder if he includes Arabic every week, or if it is included currently as a demonstration that there are Arabic-speaking Christians, too, a counter-point to the ISIS threat against the Catholic Church.
I was "this close" as he rode by. I've heard he gives his handlers heart failure as he is so difficult to guard. His openness is delightful.

I was “this close” as he rode by. I’ve heard he gives his handlers heart failure as he is so difficult to guard. His openness is delightful.

So about those Marines. These are four women who served our country a total of 120 years-or-so. I had the privilege of hanging out with them for a day and a dinner, giving a tour of the Embassy and also introducing them to our fine Marine Security Guard. They spent a couple of weeks touring Italy from North to South, wrapping up here in the Eternal City. They certainly made my week more interesting!  
With a gazillion people in the audience, Jumbotrons are essential.

With a gazillion people in the audience, Jumbotrons are essential.

The audience reaches back to the far end of the piazza. We are in the front 20% or so, thanks to the Bishop of Las Vegas.

The audience reaches back to the far end of the piazza. We are in the front 20% or so, thanks to the Bishop of Las Vegas.

 

Took the Marines to my favorite trattoria.The owner, Paolo, joined the fun and treated us to figs and prosciutto. It pays to be a regular...

Took the Marines to my favorite trattoria.The owner, Paolo, joined the fun and treated us to figs and prosciutto. It pays to be a regular…

Once a Marine, always a Marine, I am told. They are retired; never "ex" and never "former."

Once a Marine, always a Marine, I am told. They are retired; never “ex” and never “former.”

Holly, Victoria, Mary Ellen and Patricia, great new friends!

Holly, Victoria, Mary Ellen and Patricia, great new friends!

Holly and me by the Reclining Silenus, a Roman Imperial era statue on the embassy grounds.

Holly and me by the Reclining Silenus, a Roman Imperial era statue on the embassy grounds.

Tags: , , , , ,

Rush hour

12 Aug
Mid-August and the commuting is easy. Fewer cars, buses and motorini, as well as fewer people and closed shops define the period from now through the end of next week. Starting the 25th, life will return to the city. For now, we enjoy the quiet.  Usually the major avenue near us, Viale Parioli, is chock-a-block with vehicles. Ric says on a normal evening you could practically walk across the street on the tops of cars.
This is Viale Parioli at 17:30 this evening, the major shopping street a few minutes walk from our apartment. Usually it is a hubbub of cars, motorcycles, buses and people scurrying to do their shopping.

This is Viale Parioli at 17:30 this evening, the major shopping street a few minutes walk from our apartment. Usually it is a hubbub of cars, motorcycles, buses and people scurrying to do their shopping.

Sunday morning it was so quiet we could hear the priest in the church across the street giving his homily to a greatly reduced congregation. His voice echoed off the walls and spilled into the street.
No matter how long we live here, I think we will find this an interesting and amusing cultural phenomenon: everyone who can leaves town and goes to the beach for as much of August as they can manage. Many shops and restaurants close from the 1st to the 31st, some for only a couple of weeks.  
Friday is the holiday, Ferragosto, which has its roots in ancient Rome introduced by Emperor Augustus.  Families will lunch, everything that can manage to will close, and we will get the day off. Gotta love the foreign holidays!
To my Italian friends, buona festa. 

 

Typical sign on a local restaurant. Nice break for the employees, paid of course!

Typical sign on a local restaurant. Nice break for the employees, paid of course!

Out in the country

2 Jun
Rome is a wonderful city but it is, after all, a noisy, busy, annoying place. Motorini buzz up our street at all hours, buses discharging their air brakes echo in the night, and even the church across the street hums with activity as late as 11:00 PM. Seagulls sometimes screech as early as 3:30 AM, and compete with a songbird whose otherwise beautiful song is not quite so lovely at that dark hour.  So we seek to leave the city, walk without worry of careening motorini, and give our ears a rest.  Even a single day out of Rome can leave one refreshed. So it was with delight that we accepted the invitation of friends to join them at their home in a tiny town almost too small for the map.
Whenever I need to leave it all behind
Or feel the need to get away
I find a quiet place, far from the human race
Out in the country
 “Out in the Country” by Three Dog Night
As we leave Vico, heading up a rural road.

As we leave Vico, heading up a rural road.

The official town site says Vico Nel Lazio has a population of 2258. That might be true on a day that everyone who owns a home there shows up and brings the extended family. Our friend Gigi, whose family has had a house in Vico for 5 generations, says there are maybe 1000 people year-round. There are two bars, a tabaccheria, and a bakery. Everything else is down the hill a few kilometers away, except for the 8-or-so churches. Vico sits at over 700 meters above sea level. This medieval village dates back to at least the 13th century. The ancient gates are still in use and many of the original 24 towers still visible. It is not a tourist destination.
Tiny Vico Nel Lazio as seen on our ascent.

Tiny Vico Nel Lazio as seen on our ascent.

Driving about an hour and 45 minutes from Rome, we arrived late one Sunday morning to be greeted by Emanuela in the town piazza. Shortly, our group of 7 set out on a two-hour mountain hike, high above Vico. Gigi has been hiking these hills all of his life and took us meandering through grazing cows and horses with foals alongside. We could never have done this on our own. We’d be wandering there still today without his expert guiding. Along the way we shared stories with the accompanying Italian friends, picking up new vocabulary words as they willingly helped us with their language. As storm clouds threatened across the valley, we found a trough high in the hills. It must have been there for a very long time, fed by a spring. Luckily the rain arrived only as due gocce (a few drops).
Heading back to Vico we enjoyed il pranzo della Domenica (Sunday lunch) in the picture-perfect setting of Gigi and Emanuela’s garden. Following antipasti of salumi and cheese, there was homemade fettucine by the talented Maria, roasted suckling lamb and potatoes, salad, fruit, pastries and wine. It’s no wonder some of the group took to napping in the grass. Click on any photo below for a slide show.
Driving back to Rome the reality of urban life struck all too quickly as we encountered intense traffic and logistical problems in navigating our way home. But we had a lovely day in the country free from noise and traffic. Lovely. 

Tags: , , ,

Naked in Italy

27 May
That title should make the read-rate for this blog go through the roof.
The other day I was in the gym. Having finished my workout I went to the very small locker room, where my first act is usually to wash my hands since I’ve been touching all sorts of equipment. Right in front of the sink was a naked Italian woman, chit-chatting with a couple of other women while she donned her black lace panties. I was not going to ask permesso to go to into the very small area by the sink, squeezing past her naked self. As she went to put on her bra, her cell phone rang and – I kid you not – she took a 5 minute call with one boob in the bra and one boob out, still blocking the sink.  I changed my clothes and went on my way, shaking my head.
Venus After the Bath, a stunning nude by Giambologna, on display at the U.S. Embassy in Rome.

Venus After the Bath, a stunning nude by Giambologna, on display at the U.S. Embassy in Rome.

Body image and nakedness in Italy is a culture shock for American women I have spoken to. The attitude towards the body is much more open in Italy than in North America. Whether in the locker room at the gym or at the doctor’s office, unabashed nakedness is taken for granted.
Most North American men – or men from anywhere for that matter and as far as I know – don’t give a rip about taking off their clothes in front of other men. Man boobs or not, they change and shower openly from what I am told. Not so women in North America, right?
I respect the openness with which Italians treat the body. There is little or no modesty or self-consciousness, which is somewhat refreshing, but frankly I don’t know where to put my eyes when confronted with the naked conversation.  
Another time I came into the locker room to get changed before working out and a young woman came out of the toilet stall, naked but for her shower flip-flops. (God- forbid she should get a fungus while walking around the locker room naked.)  I tried to suppress my surprise but I am certain my jaw dropped a bit. As a hung-up Americana I don’t even potty at home completely naked. Naked is for the shower and certain bed-time activities. “Buongiorno! Come vai?” she said.  Where do I put my eyes?  I think I chose a corner high and to the right.
Is this narcissism? “Look at me! I am in your way and I am naked!” She may or may not have a body one wants to see naked…. And regardless, where the heck am I supposed to put my eyes?
I have become somewhat used to doffing my clothes in a medical situation, although luckily I have been able to take care that my mammographer is not a man. (Yup, many of them are in Italy. See Things Are Different Here.) When I expressed a desire to NOT have a male mammographer the nurse said to me “What do you care? They’re only breasts.” Yes, but they are my breasts, and I like to be the one to select who touches them.  After last year’s experience I made a point of selecting a facility where the doctor herself does the mammogram and sonogram. Still, when one gets a mammogram here there are no little pink capes over your shoulders. You enter the x-ray room, strip to the waist and belly-up to the machine. This is followed by a walk to an adjacent room where you get a sonogram, sometimes involving two specialists if consultation is required. And no one explains what’s going happen. In the U.S. one would expect the doctor to say “I’d like to call in Dr. So-and-So to have a look. Do you mind?” and she would buzz someone to come in. Here, a door to a busy hallway will suddenly open and someone you’ve not met while clothed will walk in and start examining your breasts with no introduction.  Thorough, though: No one is taking chances that they will miss anything. After the exam you sit there bare-breasted while having a conversation about what was or was not found.
Perhaps Italy's most famous nude, David.

Perhaps Italy’s most famous nude, David.

Whether for skin cancer checks, a visit to the cardiologist for an ECG, or to the vascular surgeon, one just slips out of the appropriate garments while chatting up the doctor and perhaps while dressing after the exam has a conversation about vacation, or family, or life in an embassy. Very convivial. Actually I like the system a great deal in that one has the full attention of the physician. But it took some adjusting to not having privacy for undressing and dressing and occasionally having a door unexpectedly open and others arrive on the scene unexplained.
The lack of privacy also extends to the pharmacy. Hell, there isn’t even a word for privacy in Italian.  Everyone hears everyone else’s symptoms and problems. You do not walk into a pharmacy and peruse the shelves looking for your own solutions or symptoms. You have to ask the pharmacist for whatever you might need. Everyone in the store will know what you came to buy. Sort of a different form of exposure.
In the U.S. we are so concerned about privacy. God-forbid someone would overhear the pharmacist give instructions on how to take an antibiotic or how to apply that anti-fungal cream! Once I had to sign a privacy statement when they gave me instructions at the people pharmacy on how to administer a medication to my dog. In locker rooms we are shy and at the doctor’s we expect gowns and drapes, introductions and explanations before anything is looked at, probed, or handled.  
It’s certainly not that either approach is wrong. It just takes some getting used to flaunting your “stuff” in public. And I still don’t know where to look when chatting up naked women in the locker room. 

Tags: , , , , , ,

False friends

30 Apr
Più io studio italiano, meno lo so.The more I study Italian, the less I know. When I took my community college classes in the U.S., I knew that a tutor would be key to any degree of fluency, but I also thought that “a few months” of one-on-one classes while actually living in Italy, would make me fluent. Ha! After 21 months of individual classes with a magnificent teacher, Eleonora, the more complex this language becomes.
Not only must you consider gender, number and how formal or informal you want to be before openinglearn-italian-language your mouth, but conjugating verbs is a nightmare even for Italians. There are fifteen tenses with 6 conjugations in each, plus the gerundio, participio and the infinito (don’t even ask) for a total of twenty-one (21) tenses, therefore about 95 conjugations for each infinitive. My Big Book of Verbs contains 601 infinitives: You do the math! Luckily there are patterns. Sort of. Except for the irregular verbs. È un incubo! (It’s a nightmare!)
Are you stating a fact, giving an order, or rendering an opinion? You’ll conjugate the verb differently. “I want you go to the moon” is conjugated differently than “Go to the moon if you want.” Io voglio che tu vada sulla luna versus Vai sulla luna se vuoi. (Vada and vai are different forms of the same verb “to go.” For that matter, voglio and vuoi are both conjugations of volere, “to want.”)
dsc_0024OK, too much info, but I wanted to give non-Italian learners an idea of the level of confusion I am in daily. Add to that “false friends.” No, I don’t mean traitors, betrayers, and two-faced meddlers. These “false friends” are words in Italian that drive the English learner mad. These are words that sound like something in English but mean something entirely different in Italian. In linguistic circles they are called false cognates.
Allow me to illustrate.
We have some favorite merchants, particularly at the market in Campo dei Fiori: The salumiere (the man who sells us superb fatty pork products from Umbria), the fruttivendolo (greengrocer), and our “snack guy” Manuele. I reduced Manuele to tears one day when I asked for “Mandorle leggermente saltato,” which mean “Almonds, lightly jumped.” I wanted them lightly salted, which is salato.
I present to you a few of the more amusing and tricky falsi amici in Italian:
  • Never go to the salumiere and ask for peperoni. He can sell you salume piccante, but only the fruttivendolo can sell you peppers. In a pizzeria, asking for peperoni pizza will result in a nice vegetarian pie with sautéed red peppers on it. Peperoni = pepper (red, or any other type); salume piccante = Spicy salami, something like what North Americans put on pizza.
  •  If you are fussy about additives in your food, you might be tempted to ask your waitress if the food contains preservativi. She might shake her head in wonderment as preservativi are prophylactics. A conservante is used to keep food from spoiling. Preservativo = condom; Conservante = food preservative.
  • When your friend asks you to non fare rumore she is not accusing you of gossiping, but asking you to be quiet. Rumore = noise; Rumor is pettegolezzo.
  • We go to the tabaccheria (tobacco shop) to buy postage among other things, and one day I heard a tourist asking for “una stampa.” Understandably the tabaccaio (tobacconist) was confused because of all the things they sell printing isn’t one of them. A postage stamp is francobollo, and una stampa is a something printed, like a picture.
  • When the bus is late we are not annoiato, but rather we find the situation fastidioso. Annoiato = bored; Fastidioso = annoying.
  • To borrow a book one must go to the biblioteca, not the libreria. One buys a book at the libreria and borrows one at the biblioteca. 
  • A cadavere is indeed a corpse, but it is not morbido, it is morboso. You might pet a kitty and pronounce it morbido; or a pastry might have a filling that is morbido. Morbido = soft. It took me a long time to get that one!
    Tu sei licenziato!

    Tu sei licenziato!

  • When your colleague says “Sono stato licenziato” he was not just awarded a license, but fired. To license = autorizzare. 
  • When shopping for a hotel, asking for one that is lussuria may land you in the wrong place. A five-star hotel might better be described as lusso. Lussuria = lust while lusso = luxury.
  •  Children who are maleducato are not illiterate, they are badly behaved. Educato = well-mannered or polite, but istruito = educated.
  • One can take a photo of a camera, but you cannot take a photo with a camera. Camera = room; Macchina fotografica = camera.
My head about to explode as I learn the dreaded subjunctive tense.

My head about to explode as I learn the dreaded subjunctive tense.

 Non pretendere does not mean you should give up your flights of fancy, it means you should not make demands. You can fingere (pretend) you speak Italian all you want! Pretendere = demand while fingere = pretend.
 An ingiuria is an insult, while an injury is a ferita.
A fabbrica is a factory, while fabric is tessuto.
At the newsstand when I want something to read, I must ask for una rivista. If I ask for un magazzino I might end up renting a warehouse.
Finally, a person who is sensibile (sen-SEE-bill-ay) is not someone with common sense, but rather someone who is given to being easily upset or emotional, i.e., sensitive. But a person who is sensitivo (sen-si-TEE-vo) is level-headed or sensible.
Is it any wonder I end the day with a glass or two of wine?

Tags: , , , ,

← Older Entries
Newer Entries →