All posts by Deirdre Straughan

American Stars in Italian Advertising

It’s not common to see big-name American stars in TV ads in the US, but they’re quite willing to do such ads overseas. Here in Italy I’ve seen Harrison Ford in an ad for a French car brand. Andie McDowell has for years advertised an expensive brand of shoes, and more recently cosmetics, for which she appears in TV commercials apparently speaking perfect Italian with no trace of an accent. Leonardo diCaprio has appeared in an ad for Apple Computers. Both Naomi Campbell and George Clooney have appeared in Martini ads; at least both of them actually do spend time in Italy. (In case you’re wondering, Clooney’s villa is on the posh side of Lake Como, near the city of Como – nowhere near us. If I ever run into him, I’ll let you know.)

The Clooney ad is one in a series on the theme “No Martini, no party,” and is cute enough to warrant a description: George rings a doorbell. The door opens, he’s greeted by several attractive young women, and a party is clearly going on inside. “Hello, George,” they say enthusiastically. Then they see that he’s empty-handed, and slam the door in his face, saying: “No Martini, no party.” George realizes his mistake, and returns with a case of Martini. This time the girls greet him warmly, take the box, and slam the door in his face again.

Gwyneth Paltrow has also appeared in Martini ads, which raised some comment as she has stated publicly that she doesn’t drink alcohol.

The Italian Holiday Season Begins

The Christmas season is upon us; here in Lecco, holiday lights are already up over some of the main streets, though they have not yet been lit, and shopkeepers are busy decorating. At least Italian merchants aren’t quite as overeager as some others. In the US, some Christmas displays go up right after Halloween. When I was in England in early October, one department store (John Lewis) already had Christmas decorations up!

The run-up to Christmas is the only time when it’s almost as easy to shop in Italy as it is in the US. Stores, especially big ones, are open on Sundays starting next weekend; Sunday openings are a rarity at other times of year, though they are becoming more common with suburban “big box” stores. As we get closer to Christmas, shops will also stay open later, to around 10 pm.

Most small shops are owned by individuals or families, and I’ve always wondered when they get their holiday shopping done, since they are open seven days a week from late November through December 24th. They must be more organized than they expect us to be, and get it all done beforehand. In the last two or three weeks before Christmas, even food stores are open on Sundays. This would seem unnecessary, except for the last Sunday before Christmas when everyone is preparing for a feast. But there is a reason: one fine Italian Christmas tradition is gift baskets of food and wine, generally sent to professional acquaintances or employees, and sometimes to teachers. Enrico’s parents, both well-loved professors at the University of Rome, used to receive amazing baskets every year of fruit, nuts, wine, and Christmas sweets. I eagerly await the day when Enrico’s students take up this habit!

tell us about your winter travel experiences in Italy

Relics of War

Many parts of Italy were severely bombed (by all sides) during WWII, but quite a few of the bombs landed without actually exploding. Some were buried in rubble and went undetected at the time, so every now and then they turn up when someone’s digging for construction or utilities. Today 55,000 people were evacuated from their homes in central Milan and the area cordoned off while aÂ450 kg bomb was disarmed, removed, and transported outside the city, where it will be exploded. The central railway station is closed and the metro is not running in certain areas.

Other than the disruption to civic life, this is no big deal. There have been probably twenty of these things since I’ve come to Italy, some big enough, and badly enough placed, to close a highway and/or major railway line for an entire day. But so far there has never been an accident – nothing’s gone off when it shouldn’t.

The photo above was taken at Lecco’s civic museum

Making Room: Italian Stratagems for Living in Small Spaces

^ top cameretta a ponte in Ross’ room in Milan. Where the chair is at right, a desktop slides out, though Ross never used it that way. (This fuzzygraph is Ross’ early work when we got our first digital camera.)

Living space is tight in Italian cities, which are often geographically constrained because built into, on top of, or between mountains – the kind of urban sprawl you see in America simply can’t occur in most parts of Italy.

Even where there is room to spread out, historically Italians tended not to. This may be due to centuries of history: until recently, Italy was a collection of separate city-states which were often at war with their neighbors; people huddled into fortress towns and cities for safety, and many Italians have never lost this preference for living close together.

Urban Italians have been living in apartments, condos, and townhouses since Roman times. The apartment building was invented in ancient Rome, and even in those days single-family dwellings were only for very rich families. Italian cities today are almost entirely apartment buildings, four to five stories tall in mid-sized towns, eight to ten in larger cities. In many buildings, the lowest floor sare reserved for commercial use. Where we lived in Milan, we had a greengrocer, bar/gelateria, baker, and butcher right downstairs – extremely convenient, since I was always forgetting something in my shopping.

The primo piano (first floor above ground level) is undesirable to live on, partly because of pollution, partly because it’s more vulnerable to housebreaking (that’s why you often see bars on the lower windows of older buildings); first floor apartments are often used as offices.

The higher up you go, the higher the value of the real estate, because the higher floors get more light and air and less pollution, and are less susceptible to being robbed. But the floor space remains the same – usually small. So how do you fit, say, three people, with all their possessions, into 70 square meters (~750 square feet)?

One way is to go vertical. Ceilings in Italy are higher than the American average, (although they’ve gotten lower in modern buildings). You build your bookcases go all the way to the ceiling. Closets are divided vertically into two sections: use the top sections for out-of-season clothing, lifting the clothes on hangers up to the high rod with a long-handled hook.

In some old buildings, the ceilings are so high that apartment owners are able to build in a loft. If you don’t want to go to that much trouble or expense, you can buy a loft bed from Ikea, which leaves a nice workspace underneath. I’ve been tempted by those, but I’m scared of heights, I get up a lot at night, and getting sheets onto such a bed looks like a hassle.

Bunkbeds and loft beds are quite common for kids’ rooms, often built into closet/desk/bed units called camerette (little rooms). A cameretta a ponte (“with a bridge”) has part of the closet built over the bed. There are entire furniture stores devoted to camerette in every conceivable style, some of them the kind of fun furniture kids dream about, with playspace under the bed, a miniature staircase going up to a loft bed (the steps lift up to provide storage space) and/or a slide for disembunking.

  • also see: Housing: How Italians Live
  • Gender Identity Crises: Can’t They Tell I’m a Woman?

    Back in August I wrote about the difficulties of being named Deirdré, which no one can spell or pronounce. An additional problem arose when I began dealing with large numbers of people online: many people don’t know whether it’s a male or female name. The default assumption was that I was male, perhaps because people “met” me in the context of technology, and assumed that a technically-capable person had to be male (that’s a rant for another time).

    So I got used to being addressed in email as “Mr. Straughan;” it’s far better than some things I’ve been called online. My friend and colleague Adrian, meanwhile, had to contend with the fact that, in America, Adrian is assumed to be a female name (thanks to the “Rocky” movies). This Adrian is British, and male. On one memorable occasion, a member of a focus group of Roxio software users began (without prompting) to sing the praises of those wonderful online reps the company had, Deirdré and Adrian. Which was very nice, except that he thought that I was a man and Adrian a woman!

    At least people meeting me in person usually figure out that I’m female, what with my two big attributes sticking out in front. But, when I was in Benares in 1985-86, even this certainty deserted me. I had very short hair at the time, and was a lot thinner than I am now. For most of the year, I wore salwar-kameez (traditional Indian women’s clothing, which is loose around the thighs but tight-fitting up top) and there was no question as to my sex. But in winter, to stay warm, I wore western clothing: baggy canvas trousers and a bulky sweater.

    While travelling back from Kulu-Manali by bus, I was delayed in a small town where university students had blocked the road to protest something or other. I was standing outside the bus, waiting for something to happen, when a young man came bustling up, probably intent on telling me all about the noble cause, whatever it was. “Hello, Sir!” he shouted. Then, as he got a little closer, his face suddenly fell. “Oh, excuse me, Madam,” he muttered, and slunk away.

    Soon afterwards, I was back in Benares, buying something in a shop. A little old Muslim man with thick glasses engaged me in conversation (in Hindi). I don’t remember what it was about, but we had been chatting for about ten minutes when he suddenly peered at me intently through his glasses. “Oh, excuse me,” he said. “If I had realized you were a woman, I would never have spoken to you.”