Tag Archives: living in Italy

Changing Bars

We always bought coffee on a “subscription,” a punch-card system, where you pay in advance for ten coffees and get a slight discount. During our last week in Milan, I finished my last card and began paying for each coffee individually. Around the third coffee, Italo said to me: “You can still get a new subscription; it will be honored after I leave.”

I was massively confused. “I’m not buying the subscription because I’m leaving,” I said, “We’re moving.”

You’re leaving?! But so am I!”

It turned out that he had sold his bar, and would be leaving it to the new proprietors on July 15th. His explanation was that the neighborhood had changed, many of his old clients had moved (or died), and he just didn’t know how to do business in the new climate: “There’s always tension, always arguments.” The neighborhood is now multi-ethnic, with recent immigrants from South America, North Africa, and China, and Italo’s clientele was becoming noticeably more mixed. Maybe there is tension between the groups, or between immigrants and Italians. I had never noticed anything particular going on, but of course I wasn’t in there 14 hours a day like he was. It was disconcerting to realize that this neighborhood fixture was leaving just as we were. You can’t go “home” again; if you do, it will have changed out from under you.

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.”

Changing Places – Moving from Milan to Lecco

It’s a phenomenon familiar to people who have moved around a lot: when you’re about to leave a place, you are suddenly out of patience with it. Annoyances you’ve put up with for years loom large, and you count the days til you can get the hell out. This is a defense mechanism: by concentrating on what you dislike, you hope to lessen the pain of leaving the things and people you do like.

Thus with me and Milano at the moment. We’re getting ready to move to Lecco (a mid-sized town on Lake Como, not very far away), and I am at the end of my tether with everything Milanese. I’ve had enough of sidewalks used as dogs’ toilets, gypsy beggars who all whine the same tale with the same words and faux mispronunciations (I could recite it along with them), of nearly getting run over in crosswalks, of bitchy old ladies who bear a grudge against anyone younger than themselves. Most of all, I am tired of pollution and the respiratory problems that result; I hope Lecco will cure all that.

This move is different, though. I’ve been in Milan – in the same apartment! – more than twice as long as any previous place in my life. I now know what it’s like to be part of a neighborhood. The shopkeepers know my habits (odd American ones, such as making pot roast out of beef rather than veal), and will give me credit when I don’t have cash. They adore my constant striving to give them exact change, and always carrying a cloth shopping bag instead of taking plastic ones. The owner of the coffee bar downstairs frequently gives Rossella chocolates; in all these years, he never figured out that she always gives them away.

I will miss some favorite restaurants, where we’ve been regulars for years. I will miss knowing where to find things, especially things that are hard to get in Lecco, such as Indian spices, Basmati rice, and fresh coriander. I will miss being able to get almost everywhere I need to go by public transport – one of this summer’s ordeals will be
getting an Italian driver’s license
(and, believe me, it will be an ordeal). I will miss having many cinemas, theatres, and museums close by, even if we hardly ever go to them.

On the other hand, in Lecco we’ll be living three blocks from Lake Como, instead of three blocks from more gray squalor. We’ll be living in an apartment twice as large as our current three rooms, and I can finally have an office NOT in the bedroom. And a kitchen larger than one meter by two. Am I looking forward to the move? You bet.

What happened next

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.

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?

Medical Privacy

…One big aspect of Italy’s national health system that I forgot to mention previously: it’s available to EVERYBODY. There’s no nonsense like asking for insurance information while you’re bleeding in the emergency room (they do ask for your national health card, but if you don’t happen to have it on you, no one cares). And there’s no such thing as being uninsurable because of pre-existing conditions. You’re in the system and you get treated, period. Quite a few people not in the system, i.e. illegal immigrants, also get treated.

I met a guy once in Austin, Texas, who was undergoing an extremely expensive experimental treatment for multiple sclerosis. He could not change jobs, because that would force a change in insurer, and no new insurer would take him on, knowing they’d have to take on that expense. There is something very wrong with this picture. You can only be insured if you’re healthy?

This ties in with the privacy concerns that Brin addresses. Medical records stored in electronic format can be hacked into and viewed by people other than our doctors. One risk is that a company might decline to hire you after learning about an expensive medical condition that they wouldn’t want their insurance to have to cover. In America this is a legitimate fear; your career mobility and life could be ruined by leaked information. The answer to this is the Italian (and British, and Canadian, and…) one: a national health system, where you’re covered no matter what you’ve got.