Archive for the ‘uniquely italian’ Category
a few stolen moments
I’ve been away from the blogosphere for an entire week, and believe me, it’s not by choice. Even now, I am typing from a work computer where I’m supposed to be doing some translation, but, well, there was a working Internet connection, and that’s all the window I needed.
Let me assure everyone that I am fine, P is fine, Luna is fine–the only thing that’s not fine is our damn phoneline (and accordingly, my Internet connection), which has been down since last Friday. It’s been rough, but I’ve learned several things through the experience, and I’m going to do a Friday Five, taking a page out of Stefanie‘s book.
You can’t imagine how long it just took me to link to Stefanie on this ancient computer that won’t even accept my memory stick, which would’ve meant that I could’ve just copied and pasted what I had already written last night.
Five Things I’ve Learned in a Week Without the Internet
1. I hate Telecom (the phone company). Yeah, I knew that one, but now I hate them even more. Most of my town is without phone service, but they don’t even have an estimate on when we might get it back. Ain’t that cute?
2. I can carry on a decent conversation in Italian over the phone with a utility company. Information I’d rather not know, but whatever. I’m most proud of the fact that I haven’t (yet) yelled or cursed in either language.
3. I spend a lot of time on the Internet. I knew this one too, but it wasn’t completely obvious until I was faced with considerably more free time this past week. I’d be lying to say it wasn’t nice to get other things accomplished too, so I think I can take this is a warning sign to re-balance things around here. See, it’s not all bad!
4. Murphy’s Law of the Blogging World: You may get writer’s block on a frequent basis while you have the full ability to post, but once you can’t, the ideas will abound. That said, rest assured, this last week was not completely wasted, blog-wise. I have at least a week’s worth of posts ready to pull out when I most need them. Again, trying to look on the positive side here.
5. And finally, the best of all–I have made a lot of wonderful blog/Internet friends. I’ve gotten emails from people who had never even commented on the blog wondering if I was OK. Wow. That is just awesome, and I thank you all for your concern. I promise I’ll get back to everyone just as soon as I’m up and running from home. It’s hard to even borrow computers to use around here, but perhaps I’ll splurge and hit the Internet café one of these days (but hopefully I won’t need to…come on Telecom!).
I, too, miss being a part of your daily lives, and I can’t wait to catch up on all that has happened in my absence. I wish I had a time frame for when I’d be back to the regularly-scheduled program, but, you know, since Telecom doesn’t know, I don’t know either. You’ll come back, though, right? I miss you!
P.S. I’m not sure how this post will look as this computer doesn’t even have the font I normally use. Bear with me, and say a little prayer, would you?
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[tags]telecom italia, life in italy[/tags]
La Festa di San Giuseppe: Fava Beans and Cream Puffs
March 19 is the Festa di San Giuseppe: St. Joseph’s Day and Italian Father’s Day. Celebrations include fava beans and cream puffs (but not together).
Read on...sunday scribblings: superstitions
Prompt #49: Superstitions
Superstitions–a topic close to my heart having grown up with an Italian-American grandmother and now living in southern Italy, where Roman Catholicism and mysticism live in surprising perfect harmony.
That phenomenon is worth a whole post, and indeed books have been written on the subject. Perhaps someday I’ll wax theoretical, but for today, let’s stick in the here and now, the daily implications of superstition in my life.
I’ve already written about my experiences with malocchio, The Evil Eye, perhaps the greatest superstition of all, especially since it crosses many cultures and religions. Some of my other favorite superstitions are things you should avoid doing lest you invite bad luck: placing a loaf of bread upside down, spilling wine, olive oil, or salt, dropping scissors.
Another of my favorites is that a pregnant woman’s cravings should always be satisfied or else the baby will be born with a birthmark in the form of the desired food or the child will be generally disfigured. You scoff?
I inherited a birthmark that my father has because my pregnant grandmother expressed her craving for chicken while scratching her legs. Yes, we both have chicken-shaped birthmarks on our calves (although I prefer to think it looks more like a heart). Someday I may show you, but sorry, today’s not the day.
All of my pregnant readers are more than welcome to quote me on this topic, by the way.
But my freakiest experience with southern Italian superstition happened about a year ago when P’s mom rushed into the house with tears in her eyes, begging me to go and retrieve some of her jewelry she had given me a few months before.
“What happened?” I asked.
“I had a dream.” I’m pretty sure she thought that would be enough information, but, you know, I’m American, so I ask questions.
“About the jewelry?” I was still not making a move for the steps to get the jewelry, so she gently guided me with her hands.
“No, about you and my son, and….” She sat down, started rocking back and forth, made repeated, furious signs of the cross, and began mumbling what I assume were prayers.
“What happened in the dream?” I stepped down two steps and stopped.
“I didn’t sleep all night,” she said, and continued saying prayers and crying. I didn’t see the conversation going any further, so I didn’t push it. I assumed that P and I had been dead in the dream–because if we had just broken up in the dream, that wouldn’t have been so upsetting? Right? Hard to tell. I went to get the jewelry.
“This is everything?” she asked as I handed her a few little boxes that contained earrings and a necklace I rather liked–it had a tiny ladybug charm, which, ironically, I always thought meant good luck.
“Yes, that’s everything. Do you want something to…”
“OK, I have to go,” she said abruptly and left, still saying prayers and still crying, but most importantly clutching the jewelry.
So I was left in the wake of this early morning encounter to consider not only my own and P’s mortality, but also what the jewelry had to do with any of it. Through various research including thinking back to my own grandmother but *not* including asking P’s mom, because this is a subject not to be discussed, I think maybe I’ve figured it out.
Among southern Italians, it’s a common practice that when one prays to a particular saint or the Virgin Mary for a request, one often promises something in return–many times it is a piece of jewelry to be pinned to the clothes of a statue.
I’m wondering if perhaps P’s mom had promised my pieces of jewelry somewhere along the way for some request, and then saw something bad happening in her dream because she gave them to me instead. Or perhaps she had simply promised away that jewelry in lieu of P and I staying alive and/or together. Or maybe she had seen something in the dream about the jewelry somehow causing trouble.
Like I said, I haven’t asked, because, truth be told, I don’t actually want to know the whole story. I’m definitely superstitious, and I believe in messages coming through dreams, so this was one time I was more than happy to live in blissful ignorance.
In fact, I didn’t even tell my own mom about this until I figured P and I were in the clear. Like birthmarks, superstitions seem to run in the family.
drowning our sorrows
As many of you may know, Italy is currently without a Prime Minister. Some of my expat blogging friends have written about it as it is currently our biggest news story.
Far be it from me to be the one to understand educate you on Italian politics, but let’s just say that this is a frequent occurrence (over 60 changes in power since World War II), so no one should be scared.
We still have a president after all.
Feel better? No?
How about a Kinder treat?
P threw one of these in my bag yesterday as I set off for school, knowing that I get peckish mid-afternoon. I’ve always avoided these Kinder snacks (although the little chocolate eggs are heavenly), but just as P guessed, I hit it around 4 p.m.
It was love at first bite with its orange and chocolate flavors mixed together in cakey deliciousness. And then I tasted a little tinge of…something…alcoholic?
Was it possible that these children’s treats are laced with Jesus Juice?
And there it is in plain Italian. Third line down.
If you don’t speak Italian, “liquore” means “liquor,” “vino liquoroso” is a port-like wine, Marsala for instance, and “alcool” indeed means “alcohol,” and in this Kinder snack, you’ll find 8.5%.
Again, like the resignation of Prodi, I don’t really know what that percentage means, but I do know that I felt really nice after the Kinder fiesta bar, that I no longer cared about the government’s status, that yesterday’s lesson went swimmingly, and that I’ve already requested a box full for next week.
Now let’s hope we’ll soon be able to raise our Kinders and salute the new (or old, as it may be) governo.
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[tags]italian government, romano prodi, kinder snacks, italy[/tags]
Love Thursday: Making it Pretty
Italian women love their homes.
They express this love by keeping them cleaner than some hospitals and by decorating them.
Now I don’t mean like for the holidays kind of decorating, because actually, that’s not so common at least where I am. And I’m also not saying that all the southern Italian homes I’ve been in are especially warm and homey, at least for my taste. I’ve seen quite a few stark white walls, and since many of the apartments (most Italians live in flats stacked one on top of another) double as echo chambers, an overall sterile feeling isn’t uncommon either.
That said, Italians are masters of making things pretty. We know this. So while maybe some homes lack a certain lived-in feel, it’s rare to find a bare balcony or terrace. Flowers, plants, and trees are everywhere adding splashes of color to complement the lush green hills and achingly blue sea.
Other that a simple love of nature, this, in my expat opinion, has a lot to do with the bella figura, making a good impression. I have to believe that there’s some sort of logic along the lines of “If the outside of your house is brutto, it doesn’t matter how well you clean the inside.”
I don’t know if that’s true, but it goes a long way in explaining sights like this:
This isn’t an uncommon scene here in Calabria. Unfortunately, many unfinished concrete monstrosities line the SS 106 that runs along the Ionian Coast. And man are they fugly (even when they’re completed for the most part).
But that doesn’t stop Italian women from making homes out of them from the outside in, from trying to make them pretty, from showing them some love.
Happy Love Thursday everyone!
Michelle Kaminsky is an American attorney-turned-freelance writer who lived in her family's ancestral village in Calabria, Italy for 15 years. This blog is now archived.
Calabria Guidebook
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