Buying a Car in Italy – Are Car Salesmen the Same All Over?

On Monday Enrico brought home our new car, a Fiat Stilo. It took him a month of intensive research to eventually return to his first, instinctive choice – which is simply the next generation of the Fiat Tipo turbo diesel that served us (more or less faithfully) for 13 years, which was itself a replacement for the Fiat Uno handed down by his parents.

Ross is disappointed: a Fiat isn’t cool enough for her (she hangs out with a wealthy crowd in Lecco – I have recently had to explain to her why SUVs are evil, even for people who can afford them). Enrico and I care little about cars beyond that they should run as reliably and cheaply as possible, while maintaining a basic level of comfort and safety.

I went with him on a few car-testing trips, and realized that we were a very confusing couple for the car salesmen to deal with. Given the types of cars Enrico had been looking at, everyone assumed he was choosing a vehicle for his wife. A year or so ago, before we were actively thinking about replacing the Tipo, Ross asked us: “If you could have any kind of car in the world, what kind would you get?” Enrico’s response was: “A minivan.” At which I laughed out loud and told him he was henceforth banned from the fraternity of real men – a real man, at least in his fantasies, would aspire to a Lamborghini or some such!

So the car dealers asked if I wanted to test drive (I didn’t), and insisted on showing me the wife-friendly features like hooks to hang your shopping bags in the trunk (I do most of my big shopping on the Internet, so a nice man with a truck brings it to my house). For most of the test drives, I insisted on sitting in the front passenger seat – my usual place. Once, when we tried a big (used) Citroen sedan, the salesman got there before me, and throughout the drive kept up a stream of manly talk about the powerful engine etc. Nice car, but his attitude would have nixed that sale even had we seriously been in the market for a car that big and expensive to fuel.

My only test, in all the cars, was to sit in the front passenger seat, slide it all the way back, then get into the seat behind it and see how much legroom was left. If I could sit comfortably without my knees touching the back of the front seat, the car passed. Enrico laughed at this, but I have long legs, and always hated being stuck in the back seat just because I was the kid. Several members of our extended family also have long legs, and when they’re visiting I don’t want them (or me) to suffer.

I was amused and delighted to find that one car dealer was selling cars and trucks made by Tata, an Indian company. Last year in Mumbai I had met an Italian who was trying to re-introduce Fiats to the Indian market – with globalization, what goes around comes around!

So we’ve done our bit for the Italian economy, buying local, and at least two of us are satisfied with our purchase. The next question is just how fancy a navigation and music system to put into it. We definitely want GPS navigation (to save arguments about whether I’m reading the map properly), and would like something that interfaces intelligently with our iPods. Hmm. We have some more studying to do”¦ and I can look forward to playing with the heads of salesmen who will expect me to know far less about electronics than my husband does!

Violent America: Why I Don’t Feel Safe in My Own Country

I return to the US, my putative homeland, at least once a year, and even when not there, I (like most of the world) have constant access to American culture via movies, TV shows, and websites. In spite of all this, I feel ever more a stranger when I land there. I can’t put my finger on why. Have I become more European? (Whatever that means.) I don’t feel European, or Italian, but lately I don’t feel particularly American either.

Perhaps I’ve become unaccustomed to some of America’s standard features, such as the plethora of churches – in many states juxtaposed with huge store signs advertising guns.

Guns, yes, that’s a factor. America feels less safe to me than Europe. One big reason is that there are far more guns around in the US, waiting to be snatched up and fired in a moment of rage. I have often thought, at times when I’m almost mad enough to throw dishes, that if there was a gun to hand, I’d be at risk of using it. So I’m glad there aren’t any in our house, and I prefer to stay away from guns altogether – I don’t trust myself with them, let alone anybody else.

Are Americans inherently more violent, with or without guns? On our way back from North Carolina, Susan and I were very irritated, even worried, by a pickup truck that hugged our bumper in fast, heavy highway traffic. I turned around and made a pushing-back motion with my hands, trying to indicate to the driver that he should give us more room. Susan snatched my hands down, saying: “Don’t do that. You never know, here.” (Susan lives in Abu Dhabi, and says it’s the safest place she’s ever lived.) I do exactly this in Italy, and it never occurred to me that anyone might consider it a shooting offense.

Reflect on the recent confrontation, at a children’s baseball game, between all four grandparents and the father of a boy at the center of an ugly custody dispute, reported thus in the local paper:

“[The maternal grandmother], Patricia Noe… may have sparked the confrontation when she said something to Jerry Shands [the father] and pointed an umbrella at him, the district attorney said.

"Then, of course, he says, ‘Get that blankety-blank thing out of my face.’ … And the next thing you hear is pop, pop, pop (from Samuel Noe’s gun)."

Three people dead, one critically injured, and the boy himself a witness. Which begs the question: Who the hell goes armed to a kids’ baseball game? And in how many parts of America is it legal to do so? I don’t want to live in any place where an angry grandpa can just whip out a gun and start shooting – because, god knows, we wouldn’t want to infringe on his right to bear arms and protect his grandson from a bad umpire call!

Yet Americans seem to take this potential for violence for granted. Reporting on this week’s “incident” in a Colorado school, the New York Times says: “Gov. Bill Owens, who visited the school and the church Thursday afternoon, said he thought school security improvements made in Bailey after the 1999 attack at Columbine High School in nearby Littleton had probably kept Wednesday’s attack from being worse. The school was built with evacuation fully in mind, including a system that allowed students in adjoining classrooms to escape quickly…”

Huh? Schools are now being built with evacuation in mind? I already knew that in some districts people have to go through metal detectors to get into a school in the first place, but – evacuation? And we’re not talking about al Qaeda here – the danger is from ordinary American citizens, including the schoolkids themselves.

What kind of society is America’s that kids have to spend their school days under the assumption that at any moment they could be rounded up and shot? Is that how we want American children to be growing up? How can such an atmosphere produce psychologically healthy citizens? It’s not videogames that inure kids to violence: it’s what they see every day on the news and in their daily lives!

What could have stopped this week’s tragedy would have been to ensure that some random guy who didn’t even have a home address did NOT HAVE A GUN. How could he have legally bought it if there’s no address to do a background check on him? If he got it illegally, why was that allowed to happen?

What makes America even scarier is that the violence is not on the surface. Everyone we meet in America seems so nice, especially anyone in a customer service position (truly startling when you’re accustomed to the indifferent or downright hostile service culture of most European establishments). Yet, given the number of deaths, you have to wonder: how many of these nice people are ready to explode? And will find a weapon ready to hand when they do?

What are your thoughts?

Raclette: Another Way to Eat Swiss Cheese

The Swiss are a nation of cheese eaters, and have ways of eating cheese that involve special appliances – but are very easy and tasty once you have the equipment.

Raclette was traditionally a (large) half wheel of cheese placed with its open face near an open fire so it would start melting. The melty layer would be scraped off and eaten while you waited for more to melt. You can still have raclette that way at restaurants and mountain refuges, but you can also have it at home, with the handy-dandy raclette cooker shown above, and cheese that you buy in convenient bricks or slices.

You put a slice of cheese into the little tray, put it under the raclette grill, and wait for it to melt.

waiting for the cheese to melt

In the meantime, you heap your plate with boiled new potatoes and pickled vegetables. You must drink hot tea or cold white wine. To drink cold water with any melted cheese dish will cause the cheese to curdle in your stomach and make you sick. The Swiss firmly believe this, and who are we to buck tradition?

The little wooden spatula shown above will be used to scrape the cheese out of the tray.

raclette

^ Here the cheese is almost melty enough to eat.

raclette - ready!

And here we are! Paprika and fresh-ground pepper have been sprinkled on top. After this I stopped photographing and started eating!

Reflections on Living in Italy

Sept 25, 2011: This is an old post, I don’t even know if all the links are working. I could update it with new (and worse) information, but frankly don’t have the heart to. I gave up on Italy several years ago.

Some Sobering Articles About Living in Italy

The Fading Future Of Italy’s Young
Reverence for the past is stifling the present
When in Rome, plan to go home
A holiday in Italy can make you wish you lived there – but the reality, says Sebastian Cresswell-Turner, is that it’s a land of almost unbridled anarchy
The slavery of teaching English
Why you shouldn’t count on your language to make a living.
Addio, Dolce Vita
The Economist on what’s really going on in Italy.
The true cost of la dolce vita
Some foreigners’ sobering experiences.
Americans Working Overseas May See Big Jump in Tax Bill
Wall Street Journal on how the US government wants to make it even harder for Americans to live overseas.
Empty playgrounds in an aging Italy – Europe – International Herald Tribune
Europe’s declining birthrates have been particularly profound in Genoa, Italy.
 
The Allure of Italy’s Lakes – New York Times
There goes the neighborhood…
Empty playgrounds in an aging Italy – Europe – International
Italians Don’t Like Italy Any More
Corriere.it Feb, 2006
One Italian in three wants to move abroad. Figures for young people cause most concern with 55% wanting to relocate. Survey carried out by Eurispes.

Blogs of Other Foreigners Who Live in Italy
(or Wish They Did)

NB: Most of these I’m aware of because they link back to me (hint hint); I don’t necessarily have time to keep up with them all!

Swiss Recycling

The Swiss are terribly organized and disciplined in everything, not least recycling.

These photographs were taken in the recycling center of a village (Cortaillod) near Neuchatel.

Above you can see (front left) a gray box for different types of batteries (separate compartments for different types). The blue mesh bin is for plastic bottles, with the instruction: “Air out, cap on!” Rear left are collecting bins for old clothes, from two different charities. Rear right is the big paper bin, also divided into sections for different types of paper.

^ Glass must also be separated, by color.

^ Bins for various kinds of aluminum packaging.

The green bin is exclusively for the aluminum containers used in Nespresso coffee machines. I’m guessing that Nestlé supplies the bin – it’s a form of advertising, when you think about it.

   

^ Robyn demonstrates the user of the can crusher.

 

Deirdré Straughan on Italy, India, the Internet, the world, and now Australia