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by Giuseppe Povia, 2006
This was a big hit last year. It’s so sweet it made me cry. The video is beautiful, too. Linguistic note: Heavy (and appropriate) use here of the diminutive ending ino, which turns “noun” into “little noun”. This is often used as a form of baby talk when speaking to small children, as if everything in their lives is as little as they are. (I never used baby talk with any kid; I find it condescending, and suspect they do, too.) E.g., topo = mouse, topolino = little mouse (which is also the name used for Mickey Mouse, a popular character in printed comics even today – it’s claimed that Mussolini said that they only thing he regretted about the embargo on US goods during WWII was that he could no longer see Topolino). |
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Quando i bambini fanno “oh” c’è un topolino | When the children say “Oh, there’s a little mouse” | ||||
Mentre i bambini fanno “oh” c’è un cagnolino | While the children say “Oh, there’s a little dog” | ||||
Se c’è una cosa che ora so’ | If there’s one thing I know now | ||||
ma che mai più io rivedrò | But that I’ll never see again | ||||
è un lupo nero che da un bacino | It’s a black wolf giving a little kiss | ||||
a un agnellino | To a little lamb | ||||
Tutti i bambini fanno “oh” | All the children say “Oh, | ||||
dammi la mano | give me your hand. | ||||
perchè mi lasci solo, | Why do you leave me (all) alone? | ||||
sai che da soli non si può, | You know that alone you can’t | ||||
senza qualcuno, | Without someone | ||||
nessuno | no one | ||||
può diventare un uomo | can become a man. | ||||
Per una bambola o un robot bot bot | For a doll or a robot-bot-bot | ||||
magari litigano un po’ | Perhaps they fight a bit. | ||||
ma col ditino ad alta voce, | But with their little finger, aloud | ||||
almeno loro (eh) | At least they | ||||
fanno la pace | Make peace. | ||||
Così ogni cosa è nuova | In this way everything is new | ||||
è una sorpresa | It’s a surprise | ||||
e proprio quando piove | And just when it rains | ||||
i bambini fanno “oh” | The children say “Oh! | ||||
guarda la pioggia | Look at the rain!” | ||||
Quando i bambini fanno “oh” | When the children say “Oh, | ||||
che meraviglia, che meraviglia! | What a marvel! | ||||
ma che scemo vedi però, però | But what an idiot, however, | ||||
che mi vergogno un po’ | That I feel a bit ashamed | ||||
perchè non so più fare “oh” | Because I no longer know how to say “Oh” | ||||
e fare tutto come mi piglia, | And do everything as it takes me [just as I feel like] | ||||
perchè i bambini non hanno peli | Because the children don’t have hairs | ||||
ne sulla pancia | On their stomachs | ||||
ne sulla lingua | Nor on their tongues | ||||
I bambini sono molto indiscreti | Children are very indiscreet | ||||
ma hanno tanti segreti | But they have many secrets | ||||
come i poeti | Like the poets. | ||||
nei bambini vola la fantasia e anche qualche bugia | In children, imagination flies, along with some lies | ||||
oh mamma mia, bada! | Oh, mamma mia, pay attention! [look out] | ||||
ma ogni cosa è chiara e trasparente | But everything is clear and transparent | ||||
che quando un grande piange | so that when an adult cries | ||||
i bambini fanno “oh” | The children say “Oh, | ||||
ti sei fatto la bua | You hurt yourself [got a boo-boo] | ||||
è colpa tua | It’s your fault. | ||||
Quando i bambini fanno “oh” | When the children say “Oh, | ||||
che meraviglia, che meraviglia! | What a marvel! | ||||
ma che scemo vedi però, però | But what an idiot, however, | ||||
che mi vergogno un po’ | That I feel a bit ashamed | ||||
perchè non so più fare “oh” | Because I no longer know how to say “Oh” | ||||
non so più andare sull’altalena | I no longer know how to go on a swing | ||||
di un fil di lana non so più fare una collana | I no longer know how to make a necklace out of a piece of yarn | ||||
finchè i cretini fanno(eh) | As long as the cretins say “eh” | ||||
finchè i cretini fanno(ah) | As long as the cretins say “ah” | ||||
finchè i cretini fanno “boh” | As long as the cretins say boh | ||||
tutto il resto è uguale | All the rest is the same | ||||
ma se i bambini fanno “oh” | But if the children say “Oh, | ||||
basta la vocale | The vowel is enough. | ||||
Io mi vergogno un po’ | I feel a bit ashamed | ||||
invece i grandi fanno “no” | Instead the adults say “No” | ||||
io chiedo asilo, io chiedo asilo | I ask asylum… | ||||
come i leoni | Like the lions | ||||
io voglio andare a gattoni… |
I want to go like big cats [on all fours]. | ||||
e ognuno è perfetto | And every one is perfect | ||||
uguale è il colore | The color is the same | ||||
evviva i pazzi che hanno capito cos’è l’amore | Hurray for the crazies who have understood what love is | ||||
è tutto un fumetto di strane parole | It’s all a comic book with strange words | ||||
che io non ho letto | That I haven’t read | ||||
voglio tornare a fare “oh” | I want to go back to saying “Oh” | ||||
voglio tornare a fare “oh” | |||||
perchè i bambini non hanno peli ne sulla pancia | |||||
ne sulla lingua… | |||||
if you find this useful and want more, let me know
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Il Muro di Sormano: Where Bicycle Racers Hit THE WALL
On a sunny Sunday in January, we drove up to the triangolo Lariano – the peninsula jutting into y-shaped Lake Como, whose tip is Bellagio. It’s an area famous in Italian bike racing history (there’s even a church dedicated to cycling, with relics of famous racers – including their bikes) As we drove, part of the road was stencilled with Muro di Sormano, over and over again. We had never heard of this, and thought it must refer to some ancient ruin of a Roman or medieval wall.
After lunch at the top of the hill in Colma, we noticed a tourism signpost for “Muro di Sormano – 2 km” with an estimated walking time of two hours. This seemed like a lot of time to cover two kilometers. So we started walking down the very steep slope of a newly-paved road, which was painted with altitude markers and stencils of local plants, and viewing spots where you could look out and identify the mountain peaks all around. More mysterious were the large quotations from Italian cyclists, painted on the ground so as to be read from the bottom up.
We ran into a local couple who were happy to tell us all about it. I love hearing stories from people like this, who have been in a place forever and known every inch of it for decades. Myself, I have a breadth of knowledge about many parts of the world, but I will never have the depth of knowledge that comes with being deeply, permanently rooted in your native soil. I’m not sure I would trade, but I do enjoy seeing the other side.
As they explained, the “wall” of Sormano is the road itself. It used to be part of the Giro di Lombardia (and maybe the Giro d’Italia). Because of its steep grade, the cyclists perceived it as a wall. Which doesn’t appear to have stopped them – in one part of the video you can see what are apparently the record times for covering this damn-near-vertical distance.
barCamp Roma: January, 2007
The full gallery of photos from my attendance at barCamp in Rome.
Immigration and Identity in Europe
(originally published in 2002)
The assassination of Pim Fortuyn, a Dutch politician, provides food for thought. Fortuyn was “a politician who rejected multiculturalism, called for an end to immigration and excoriated Islam as a ‘backward culture’ for its intolerance of homosexuals, attitude to women and more” and “argue[d] fiercely that immigrants should integrate more wholeheartedly with the host nation.” (The Economist, May 9 and April 25, 2002). Fortuyn raised valid questions about immigration and cultural identity, questions that European countries urgently need to answer.
Due to low birthrates, there is a shortage of “native” European babies, and Europe faces a demographic decline which will lead to a disproportion between the number of people being paid state pensions, and the number of people in the workforce paying the taxes to pay those pensions. Europe needs an inflow of young people to fill the demographic gap, and to do the menial jobs that native Europeans consider beneath them. There is demand for labor, and it is supplied, both legally and il-, by economic migration from poorer countries.
Yet immigration worries many Europeans. The ugly side of these fears is expressed in support for extremists like Le Pen in France. Balanced thinkers like Fortuyn, however, deserve a hearing. He posed important questions about the mutual rights and obligations of immigrants and their new home countries.
The big question is integration: How much should immigrants be expected to adopt the values and mores of their new countries? The issues are thorny when people from more repressive cultures immigrate to liberal ones (and the Netherlands’ is one of the most liberal in the world!). Which practices can or should be defended on the grounds of culture and tradition?
Some obvious lines are drawn. Clitoridectomy (“female genital mutilation“) is illegal in European countries; some women have successfully bid for political asylum to avoid being sent back to countries where they would be forced to undergo it. But other cultural conundrums run the gamut from arranged marriage, to Muslim girls covering their heads in school.
There are even culture clashes between first- and second-generation immigrants, sadly illustrated by the case of Fadime Sahindal. She moved with her Kurdish family to Sweden when she was seven, and attended Swedish schools. So she grew up between cultures, a third-culture kid, neither wholly Swedish nor wholly Kurdish. Her parents nonetheless expected that she would behave as Kurdish girls traditionally do, e.g. submit to a marriage arranged by them, with a Kurdish man. She defied them by falling in love with a Swedish man, and was murdered by her own father for “dishonoring” her family. (More)
“European populations are aging, and cannot maintain their welfare states without massive immigration; immigration from Islamic countries threatens to change European values inalterably.” (Rod Dreher, National Review Online)
Pim Fortuyn had reason to fear such changes. He was flamboyantly gay – not a problem for most Dutch, but anathema to many conservative Muslims, even those living in Holland. His murder just before the elections may already have changed the Dutch political mindset: “Mr Balkenende [expected to be the next prime minister] repudiated the country’s multicultural approach to immigration and said newcomers should assimilate with Dutch culture.” (The Economist, May 16, 2002)
Jan 28, 2007 – Revisiting this article nearly five years later, it’s hard to say that much has changed for the better. The Netherlands is having an identity crisis, spurred on the one hand by a tradition of tolerance, on the other by events like the religiously-inspired murder of director Theo van Gogh.
Italy has had its own “honor” killing. Last summer a twenty-year-old woman of Pakistani descent, raised mostly in Italy, was murdered by her father and uncle for dishonoring the family by refusing an arranged marriage and living with an Italian man. Her relatives slit her throat and buried her in the garden.
A colleague told me of a friend of hers, a north African woman in her 30s who has been in Italy for many years and lives with her Italian boyfriend. But now that her family is coming to visit from the home country (yes, I am being deliberately vague), she is going through an elaborate ruse to hide the real facts of her life, for fear that her family would literally kill her were they to find out that she is living in sin. This woman must either submit to the will of her family (marry a Muslim man of their choosing) or live in subterfuge and danger forever. Or renounce her family, but it’s possible that this would not save her life, should the family consider itself dishonored by her behavior. How is an open, tolerant society like Italy’s supposed to deal with this? What can we do to help her and others like her?
Your thoughts?
Oh, My Darling Clementine
The fresh fruits and vegetables section of a standard American supermarket looks much the same all year round. There is no seasonal variance in the availability of any common foodstuff: you see the same tomatoes, lettuce, broccoli etc., even when they have to be imported from someplace far away where the weather is right for growing them. This everyday "luxury" is so ingrained into American habits that, when I first moved to Italy, it never occurred to me that certain items might simply not be available at some times of year. "What do you mean, it’s not the season?"
Italian fruttivendoli (greengrocers) and their customers favor the fruits and vegetables of the season. You can certainly buy, e.g., greenhouse strawberries in winter, but they’re much more expensive, and not nearly as tasty, as the ones grown outdoors in their proper time. The most flavorful foods are grown "locally" and are bought at the peak of their season, when, due to their abundance, they’re also cheapest.
Right now it’s winter and we’re flooded with agrumi (citrus) from Sicily and other southern parts of Italy (and Spain). You can get some sort of oranges (arance [ah-RAHN-chay]) all year round, but at this time of year they’re huge and juicy, a colorful antidote to the gray weather. Blood oranges – my favorites – don’t look much different from any other kind on the outside, but inside: red red red! Squeeze them to obtain a thick, syrupy juice that looks like a vampire’s breakfast.
even the packing is gorgeous! – blood oranges
My favorite citrus, however, are clementines. I guess these are what Americans call tangerines: smaller than oranges, when ripe they are loose in their skins and easy to peel. They break apart neatly into bite-sized sections that you can pop into your mouth and enjoy a squirt of juicy sweetness, without getting it all over your hands and face. Actually, clementine [cleh-men-TEEN-ay] are usually so small that you can eat half of one in a single mouthful.
These (along with Glucose biscuits) were my favorite winter travelling food in India, and are just as handy on Italian trains: I can pop a few into my backpack, peel and eat at will. If they get a little mushed, it’s no matter – a section or two may be squished, but they don’t turn black like bananas, and the rest is perfectly edible. I also keep some on my desk for mid-morning and mid-afternoon snacks. A golden pyramid of clementine offered to guests after dinner will disappear entirely as people talk and nibble, easily downing five or six each.
There are several varieties. There are clementine con o senza semi (with or without seeds), pictured at top. There are mandarini, which are tiny, with a smooth, shiny skin that fits tightly and can be difficult to peel. There are mandaranci, which I take (from the name) to be a hybrid of oranges and mandarins. There’s a larger variety of clementine which is closer to what I remember from India – not as sweet and juicy as the standard Italian version.
I don’t buy late-season fruit: it’s always disappointing after the wonders of a fine fruit at the height of its glory. I’ll enjoy the clementine while they last. Then they will slowly disappear from the shops, and we’ll have to survive on pears and apples until the early summer fruits (cherries!) start coming in.
photos shot at Il Fruttorto, Lecco