Scribbles

After the Abruzzo earthquake Italian Prime Minister Berlusconi was quoted saying the victims living in tent cities should think of themselves as being on a camping holiday. He hit the news again a day ago by telling a female doctor “I wouldn’t mind being resuscitated by you”.

The press took it badly, but Dr Carrieri from Milan took up the Prime Minister’s defence, saying he had paid her a “gallant” compliment to “take the drama out of the situation”. (Full)

Which makes me think of men, women and Italy… After living in Italy for two years, I still find it remarkable how women are given remarks by Italian men. Women who lived in Italy for a while might easily see them as compliments, but foreigners would surely be surprised if not insulted:
Not only is staring almost an art, but it is also usual to be greeted in a shop with a “Ciao Bella!” (“Hi beautiful”) and to get a “Arrivederci, cara” (“Bye, sweet”).

It is usual to be talked to when sitting (as a woman) alone at a table in a restaurant or bar. Getting whistled at is a daily occurrence, remarks about the way a woman looks or dresses are common. Most women don’t react, or (pretend to) see it as a compliment. Only they can tell if deep down inside they do. But if you, as a female tourist, visit Italy, don’t be surprised…

More on The Road about Living in Italy

While I love living in Italy, one of the things that intrigued and bothered me is the lax attitude versus waste management, recycling and garbage collection.

Sure enough, there are many “parts” in Italy, each with their own habits, procedures, administration, and culture, so I can not speak for the parts I have not lived in, or travelled through, but it seems in many parts the garbage collection is done in the same way: People dump their waste in garbage skips scattered along the streets, both in town centers and along the roads in rural areas. A garbage truck comes along every so often to empty the skips.

There seems to be no limit as to what people can dump in these skips. You can find anything from normal household garbage, the contents of entire file cabinets, chemicals like paint, engine oil and cleaning products, leaves and branches from the garden, bicycles, fridges, microwaves and computer screens. Just about anything goes. And if it is too big to put inside, people just leave it next to the skip.

Often these collection points, separated by only a few hundred meters in the towns, become a concentric area of scattered broken glass, plastic bags, tins and cans that were either spilled while throwing them in the skip, pulled out by street dogs, or just dumped on the spot, next to the skip.

There are mainly three types of skips: one for generic waste, one for paper and cardboard and one for plastic and glass. In many cases, though, you can only find the one for generic waste, so “recycling” is often only a remote thought in Italy. A thought confirmed if you look what people actually dump in the recycling bins. It seems like they are used as an overflow for the general waste skip.

Most of the time, the skips are not emptied fast enough. What is the “well-intended waste generator” to do? He or she put his stinking and leaking garbage bags in the car (guaranteed to leave a smell for the next two months) early in the morning (what else do you need to start off a nice day), drives to the skip only to find it full… Of course people will not drive to the next one, or come back the next day. They will dump it right there.

I was glad to finally see some recycling bins in my neighbourhood. Previously I had to drive 3 km to the nearest place where I could conscientiously dump carefully separated paper, plastic and glass.
Unhappy I was to find the “glass and plastic”-skip is never emptied. It just stands there, full. And has been for the past four months..

More on The Road about living in Italy.

Why I like living in Italy? They got their priorities right!

We had a business appointment in town this week. Found the office closed with a little note on the door: “On coffee break. Will be right back”.

The whole office had gone to the coffee shop on the corner for the morning shot. Business could wait.

And yes, coffee is a big thing in Italy. Check this post.
More on The Road about living in Italy.

When I enter a shop in Italy, the experience is far different from my frustrating encounters with the fraud Italian services business.

This morning, I went to a coffee bar for my typical Italian breakfast, and they greeted me as if I was a long lost friend returning after years of absence. They prepared a coffee for me, as a work of love and served it with a smile that would make your heart melt.
Ok I admit, the lady likes me, but hey…

I passed by the newspaper stand. The lady greets me with “Ciao caro! Where are you rushing to? You seem so much in a hurry? How are you doing?”.
I have only met her twice in my life.

Dropping by the local supermarket, every single employee greets me with “Buongiorno! Come stai?” even as they pass me, while I am looking at the racks of pommodore sauce. (the supermarket has about 10 racks. One is entirely reserved for tomato sauce, one for olive oil, two for pastas).

And the service is expanded to a level foreigners might get annoyed (I’m not). Like when I was asking for “that piece of Gorgonzola cheese” (pointing with finger), and the guy behind the counter grinned and shook his head: “I will give you this one, much better!”, without even asking me.

When I ordered 400 grams of “prosciutto crudo di Parma” (raw ham), he cuts me 580 grams. Does not even ask me “Ok if it would be a bit more?”. He did say “This ham is really good, look at the texture, it is just right!”

Last time, I ordered prosciutto, the lady countered: “400 grams??!? Are you sure? That is a lot!”. I said I was sure, and a discussion started between both ladies behind the counter. They agreed to “wrap it in two separate packs, so it stays fresh for longer, as he will not eat it all at once!”, while their smiles reminding me of my mum’s.
Ok, I have to admit, they both like me. The ladies behind the counter I mean. Well, my mum likes me too, but that is not what I meant.

The language barrier is hampering a more intimate exchange of information, though. Laura from the coffee shop downstairs always gives me the best of smiles, as if saying “I know
that you know that I am thinking “I wished I knew enough English to have a decent conversation with him”.
I think she likes me too.

More posts about living in Italy

My usual disclaimer: I love Italy. I love living here. I love the country, its people, its food, its culture… But it is a country with quirks, which make you smile.

Many people here don’t speak a second language, not even younger people. They are not short of trying, though, as I described in my eBook chapter Itanglish – Italian food in English.

Last weekend, I saw this sign along the beach:

It seems they did not do too well in French neither.

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