Category Archives: Italy

Italian Orphan Names

Italy has a millennia-old tradition of abandoning unwanted infants. The Romans exposed them on remote hillsides to be (hopefully) adopted by someone who needed a child or (more likely) eaten by wolves. In more recent times, babies were left on church steps, in most cases to be raised by the Church. Since no one knew who their parents were, these abandoned children were given surnames denoting their orphan status:

  • Orfanelli – little orphans
  • Poverelli – little poor (people)
  • Peverelli – slightly disguised version of the above
  • Trovato, Trovatelli – found, little foundling
  • Esposito – exposed. BTW, it’s pronounced eh-SPO-sih-toe, not ess-po-ZEE-to

These names have by now been inherited for generations, but, somewhere along the line, these folks’ ancestors were abandoned as infants.

Nicole over at zoomata.com sent me the following:

“Innocenti and Nocentini are both common names of orphan origins in Florence, from the Ospedale degli Innocenti (Hospital of the Innocents)… where babes were left, no questions asked, in a little revolving door in a corner… It’s still there, with a little iron grate over it.”

Home Ownership in Italy: Garbage and Sewage

Living in a villetta a schiera (townhouse or row house) is quite different from living in a condo apartment building. We learn something new every day.

Garbage is an endlessly complex question. We can put out the umido (wet waste) three times a week, but that can’t include garden trimmings. The comune will supply 150 biodegradable bags per year, free of charge, but we have to go to some particular office during a particular two-week span each year to pick ours up. We haven’t figured out yet whether they will also supply the sacchetti viola andtrasparenti (violet and transparent bags) that we need for recyclables and general waste – it would be nice, as these cost about 20 cents each (perhaps that includes tax?). General waste goes out twice a week, and the sacchetto viola (however many you have) only once. We’ve been giving the recycling guys plenty to do, but are now finally getting rid of the last of our moving boxes. By next week we’ll probably have our outside portico finally cleared – now that the weather’s too cold to use it.

We had to buy a new stove top and oven to fit into the spaces in the kitchen that had been built-in by the previous owners. We learned that gas ovens are going out of style in Italy; 99% of the built-in ovens available are electric. Which could get horribly expensive if you use the oven frequently, as electricity is costly here. For this reason, and because I prefer it for cooking, I insisted on gas. Our plumber, who is well-versed in the ever-changing laws regarding these things (as he must be, since he certifies his installations), learned that the law about gas appliances and air circulation does not even address built-in gas ovens, presumably because they have become so rare. So our set-up is probably legal in default of an actual law about it.

Our new home includes a bit of garden (a lot of it vertical, but that’s okay – we can plant those nice flowers you see growing out of walls all over Switzerland). The lawn has been neglected for years, and is lush with dandelions and some other kind of low-lying weed that chokes out the grass. If you’re keen on lawns, you might think there’s nothing worse than a lawn covered in weeds. Well, there’s one thing that’s infinitely worse: a lawn covered in weeds covered in sewage and toilet paper. Yes, we had a problem with the plumbing.

The previous owner conveniently forgot to mention that anything was wrong, but we learned all about it when, by sheer coincidence, we ended up calling the same sewage guys who had already been here twice in six months. So they suspected that the problem is not ours alone – it’s the main pipe for the whole complex (four families), which has bent, probably due to earth slippage. Since our connection to this pipe is the lowest of the four, we’re the first to suffer when it blocks – I had noticed a foul-smelling burble of liquid coming up through a hole in the concrete manhole cover in our yard. This manhole turned out to cover a drainage reservoir, about half a cubic meter, from which stuff is supposed to drain immediately into the sewage pipe. When we opened it, it turned out to be completely full. (No, I didn’t take video of that.)

Unblocking the mess required inserting a hose as far as possible and squirting in water under high pressure. On the first couple of attempts, from our manhole, this merely caused a backup and overflow, proving the sewage guys’ thesis that the problem was further down. I wish it had not taken spreading disgusting stuff all over our yard for them to determine this.

They then dragged their hoses down to the neighbor’s yard where our collective pipe connects to the city line, and proved, as suspected, that the block was there. Fortunately, they did not spew sewage all over the neighbors’ carefully-manicured lawn, which would have been far more tragic than what they did to my weed collection.

Eventually the line was cleared, and they washed as much of the yuck as they could back down the hole, using the high-pressure hose. But my weeds were furred with toilet paper and the general smell was not pleasant – I’m glad this didn’t happen in summer!

So I spent a couple of hours digging up weeds (something I needed to do anyway), which also removed a lot of the toilet paper (I wore gloves). I hadn’t realized gardening was such backbreaking work – my right arm was so painful from unaccustomed exercise that I couldn’t sleep that night.

Customer Service in Italy (Again)

We’ve been customers of Ikea for over 15 years – sometimes satisfied, sometimes not. I suppose that eventually we will replace most of our cheapish Ikea furniture with stuff that Rossella won’t be embarrassed to inherit, but for the time being, given budget constraints, we still buy Ikea. The Ivar unfinished pine modular shelving has mostly migrated out to the garage (after I spent hours this summer cleaning, sanding, and staining shelves coated in a decade’s worth of Milanese grime – I thought we were going to use them in the house!). The Billy bookcases are still in use, though by now they’re so old that Ikea doesn’t even make them in this color (pine) anymore. At least all this old stuff is no longer in the fancier public spaces in the house; my office and the taverna(basement den) have become the repositories of our less-presentable furniture.

Anyway, my point set out to be about customer service at Ikea. Which has markedly improved. A few years ago we got very angry about some customer service failing, I forget now what it was. As we stood arguing at the counter, a non-Italian Ikea manager observed, and came over to set things right, going the extra mile to make us happy, and showing the staff that this was the correct approach. I supposed that Ikea HQ had detected customer unhappiness in Italy, or this particular store, and sent someone from Sweden to make improvements.

During our latest visit, we saw that they’d taken great strides in staff attitudes. All the floor staff were knowledgeable and enthusiastic, in spite of being swamped with customers. It appears that Ikea have finally found the secret to training Italians to provide good service; this is knowledge they could sell, if they chose.

They could start with Telecom Italia, who continue to lose marks on both competence and politeness…

The Plant of Happiness

During one of my several visits to our new home before we moved, the previous owner offered to leave us some things that wouldn’t fit into her new apartment, including a two-meter tall Yucca plant. I didn’t really care for its looks, but what the heck – it was certainly thriving. When it actually came time to move, she told me that this plant had been taken away by her (soon-to-be-ex) husband as it actually belonged to his mother, but she had a smaller version that she would leave me instead. The smaller one, only about three feet tall, was sitting in the front yard in a pot. I noticed that the neighbors also had one, planted in their yard.

Then we found out that these neighbors, too, are separating and on the road to divorce. “La chiamano la pianta della felicita’, ma dicono che porta sfiga,” remarked Enrico. [“It’s called the plant of happiness, but they say it brings bad luck.”] Given the plant’s track record – 50% of the couples in this small complex divorcing! – we decided not to take any chances. I thought a ritual dismemberment or burning of the plant would be appropriate, but Enrico felt that would be going too far. So one day he took the plant out in the car and left it in front of someone’s house in a nearby town (thereby leaving the bad luck with them, we assume!).

The following week, two friends of ours died in completely unrelated incidents in different parts of Italy (one in a car accident, one of aneurysm). We concluded that we had either got rid of the plant just in time, or had not got rid of it fast enough. I still think we should have burned it.

Dec, 2004

Mike Richter says: “The yucca has an attribute you overlooked. Those ummm ‘startling’ spines are the ‘cactus needles’ some used to play 78s back in ancient times. I had a three-meter yucca beside my front porch (until it threatened to replace the porch) and still have some of its needles in my Grafonola. I hasten to add that they are not used in place of steel or plastic ones; they tend to leave resin behind in the groove.”

A Travelling Show of Italian Classic I Promessi Sposi

The weekend of October 9-10, all of downtown Lecco was the stage for the Corteo Manzoniano, a “travelling” representation of that famous piece of local literature, Manzoni’s I Promessi Sposi (The Betrothed), most of whose action takes place in and around Lecco and Milan. Groups of actors in gorgeous costumes paraded among five or six fixed stages, or acted out scenes on small travelling platforms, or on horseback.

Tradimento! (Betrayal)

shot Oct 10, 2004, 1:17 mins, 3.7 MB

The betrothed couple of the title, Renzo and Lucia, attempt to trick the priest Don Abbondio into marrying them. Don Abbondio is understandably reluctant, since Don Rodrigo (a different use of the title “Don” !), the local Spanish overlord, has sent a couple of thugs (bravi) to inform him that: “Questo matrimonio non s’ha da fare.” – “This marriage should not take place.” (Don Rodrigo wants Lucia for himself.) Don Abbondio discovers the trick in time; much yelling and confusion ensue.

The Kidnapping of Lucia

22 secs, 1.8 MB

You can’t see it in this shot, but Lucia is being grabbed and bundled into the carriage, screaming. The horses didn’t like the noise and started rearing, which was scary, but after watching the scene re-enacted, I suspected that they were very well trained to look as if they were freaking out, but were actually under the control of their driver.

Procession

31 secs, 2.5 MB

I don’t know who all these characters are, but I liked the chanting and the pretty horses. Until my cellphone rang…

La Peste

1:55 mins, 5.6 MB

The plague (peste) ravages Milan. Bodies are carried away by the cartload. A grieving mother says farewell to her young daughter, placing her body tenderly on the cart, and tells the corpse-collectors: “Come back this evening to take me, and not only.”

Parade

1:59 mins , 5.8 MB

The first character you see here (with the leather banding on his shirt) is probablyl’Innominato (the Unnamed), the bad guy who turns good. The band and the music are totally out of period, but at least they’re Lecchesi – the theater company is actually from Bergamo.

The Grim Sweepers

44 secs, 2.2 MB

These stilt-walkers closed the parade. Black and purple are the colors of mourning in Italy. I have no idea why they had brooms, except the purely practical purpose of balancing the scythes on the other end.