Tag Archives: Italian culture

That Old College Spirit

Everyone in the world finds it cool to have logos and words from other parts of the world on their T-shirts. Here in Italy, you’d be surprised at how many people seem to have attended American Ivy League universities, until you realize that there are university logo shirts are for sale at many shops that have absolutely no connection to any of these institutions. Ironically, they’ll pile up a bunch of different universities together in one stack of shirts. At a Milanese shop currently in with the teenybopper crowd, there are shirts with Disney characters (unlicensed, I bet – there’s no copyright notice on them), “Cuba” in Coke-style lettering, and Georgetown University. I caused my daughter agonies of embarassment by asking the shopgirl: “Why Georgetown, in particular?” No other universities were represented in this particular shop, so I thought maybe the owner actually had some connection to it. The girl was merely confused; she had never heard of Georgetown University, and had no idea why they carried that particular logo.

The funniest shirt I’ve seen around lately says “The University of Yale.” I’m pretty sure the Yale regents did not approve that one.

Summer Lovin’ – An Italian Tradition of Infidelity

Summer in Italy is traditionally a time of marital infidelity. Not that Italians are terribly faithful to begin with; depending whose statistics you believe, many or most have betrayed their husbands or wives, and some do it regularly, at any time of year. (For the record: NOT speaking from experience here.)

But, when everyone’s away from home, things get even wilder. There’s a saying: “Ferragosto, moglie mia, non ti conosco,” which requires some explanation.

Ferragosto, on and around August 15th, is the big summer holiday, when you can confidently expect that EVERYTHING will be closed and almost everyone will be away from home. August 15th is the Feast of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary, but having a holiday at this time reflects the long-standing Christian tradition of co-opting the older pagan festivals, in this case the month-long Roman feriae Augusti (feast in honor of Augustus, the deified emperor). Nowadays, “Ferragosto” refers to the week or so around the 15th, as well as the day itself, much as Americans would refer to the “4th of July weekend” (note that Italians take a week, while Americans only get a weekend!).

So the translation would be: “[On] Ferragosto, wife of mine, I don’t know you.”

I perceive a dual meaning in this that I’m not sure was originally intended. Obviously the husband is speaking, so it could mean: “Wife, I’m pretending I don’t know you because I’m with my lover.” Or it could be the man taken aback by his wife’s behavior: “I’ve never seen you like this.”

Either case apparently applies. Every summer there are stories in the paper about people being caught out by mischances. Some years ago the police, in an effort to curb street prostitution, published the license plate numbers of men caught in flagrante in their cars with prostitutes. There were loud complaints about the invasion of privacy, and several cases which probably ended up in divorce court: the men had been ostensibly working hard back in the cities while their families were on vacation at the seaside. Their wives were not pleased at what hubby was doing for recreation, outside of all that hard work.

Today there’s a tongue-in-cheek editorial in Il Corriere della Sera about the dangers of cellphones during the summer vacation: how do you stay in touch with your lover, while spending intensive time with your family? A call at an inopportune moment will require a level of acting improvisation that most of us simply aren’t up to, and your spouse will be watching like a hawk for the opportunity to grab your cellphone and review its list of calls made and received (erasing the list is an admission of guilt). The article concludes: “If you have nothing to hide, you can have fun watching others. Every time a cellphone rings on the beach, in a restaurant, or in an alpine refuge, look around you: you’ll see terrified husbands and wives.”

Italian Brats

A survey cited by Zoomata says “a recent poll of 2,500 travel-industry professionals voted Italian kids the most obnoxious and unruly in the EU. … according to UNICEF, only 50% of parents [in Italy] reprimand their kids.”

I’d have to agree that many Italian parents are over-indulgent with their kids, and many young Italian children noticeably lack discipline and common courtesy. At my daughter’s riding school, I waged a never-ending battle to keep other people’s kids from running amok and scaring the horses during lessons. (Horses scare easily, and when they do, their riders often fall.)

This led to some surprising run-ins with small children. One three-year-old not only would not stop making noise, but gave me lip when I asked him to:

Me: “Stop that. You’ll scare the horses and someone could fall.”

Him: “I don’t care.”

Me: “Someone could get hurt!”

Him: “I don’t care. Anyway, it doesn’t hurt to fall.”

Me: “Oh, yes, it does. Want me to show you?”

Another child, when I asked him to be quieter, said “No.”

I asked: “Where’s your mother?”

“I’m not going to tell you.”

So I tucked him under my arm and carried him off to find her, to general astonishment. At least I resisted the very strong urge to spank him!

The teacher in my daughter’s elementary school put up with far worse. One boy called her a whore. She pretended not to hear, which surprised me. I’ve attended many schools, and in every one of them, that would have got the kid sent to the principal’s office, or suspended.

Generation Gap: Italy’s Ageing Population

One aspect of Milan I’m really tired of is that it seems so old. Europe’s population in general is ageing, but the average in Milan seems to be even older, though I don’t know why that should be. Surely they could find some cheaper and more congenial place to retire. New Yorkers retire to Florida to get away from cold winters, icy sidewalks, and a fast-paced life that has no time for people who move slowly. Why don’t the Milanese?

Whatever the reason, there are a lot of old people in Milan. Nothing inherently wrong with that; some of my favorite people are a lot older than I am, and I count them as friends. But life in Milan must be harsh for the old, because most of them seem to be in eternally bad moods, always looking for something to complain about. This is so widespread that we notice any old person who actually looks happy. A few days ago, in the subway, Rossella and I saw an old couple smiling and laughing together. It was so unusual that it made our day.

Milan’s oldies seem especially to seek occasions to complain about the younger generations. A friend witnessed this scene:

An old man got onto a crowded bus. He planted himself in front of a young man wearing a workman’s coverall, who sprawled, exhausted, in a seat. The old man glared at him for some minutes, until a young woman nearby nervously offered him her seat.

“No,” said the old man, “I’m waiting for this jerk to get up and do the right thing.”

The younger man raised his eyes and said, “I just finished working for fourteen hours. You’re retired and haven’t done a damn thing all day. I’m not moving.”

Making Friends in Italy

This question came up recently on one of the expats-in-Italy boards I hang out on (it had coincidentally already been on my mind): How do you make friends with Italians?

Although most of the Italians I’ve met are warm and friendly and great fun to have dinner with, I’m not sure that I have any really close Italian friends. There are Italians with whom I can enjoy a long chat when the occasion happens to arise, but no one I’d call up and pour out my heart to when I need an understanding ear. I do have friends like that, both in Italy and elsewhere, they just don’t happen to be Italians.

I’ve observed, over the years I’ve been here, that most Italians don’t make friends as easily as many Americans do. I think it’s a matter of practice. Many Americans move around a great deal (most within America, some outside), and have repeatedly faced the need to make new friends. When you move a lot, you learn to get to know people quickly.

Most Italians stay all their lives in the city of their birth (if they possibly can); some never even move out of their original neighborhood, though they may commute across town for work. Some commute between cities, working somewhere during the week and returning home on weekends. Some are forced to migrate for work, but still maintain strong ties with their paese, a word meaning both “town” and “nation” – which reflects Italy’s long history as a collection of separate city-states.

Hometown ties extend even to strangers. When we first moved to Italy, our car (donated by my husband’s parents) had a license plate from Teramo, a town in Abruzzo. We drove it to Milan for our first reconnaissance visit. Late at night, at a toll booth just outside the city, a man in a car beside us shouted excitedly: “Are you from Teramo? That’s where I’m from, but I live here. I’m in the Guardia di Finanza. If you ever need any help, just look me up!” (The Guardia di Finanza are the financial police, who investigate accounting frauds, tax evasion, etc. – I hope never to need him!)

Kids usually stay in the same school for the complete cycle at each level: five years of elementary school, three of middle school, and five of high school. As far as I can tell, Italians form their enduring friendships during their school years, and, even if they grow up to be very different from those friends in lifestyle, experiences, careers, etc., they don’t feel a strong need for new friendships in later life.

I just ran across an article in the International Herald Tribune which suggests that this is also true in other European cultures: “the therapist stated categorically that people just did not make friends any longer in middle age. That advice, suggested Draguns, reflects cultural traditions in Germany and the Netherlands, where people tend to limit their friends to those they made in school and to keep the same friends through old age…”

I’ll be curious to hear from my European readers about this, to agree or refute or expand. I wonder: do Europeans feel that American-style friendships are shallow, because they happen so quickly? Some undoubtedly are, but not all. Some of my closest friendships have been formed very quickly, often with other third-culture kids who feel the same need I do to find the right people and make friends quickly.

See also: Rebecca’s view

Update: A few years later I began meeting and hanging out with il popolo della rete – Italians who are active online – and then began to find like-minded Italians to be friends with.

What’s your experience of making friends in Italy?