Category Archives: Italian women

Spunky Old Dame

02 Sunday Oct 2011

Posted by in Italian habits and customs, Italian men, Italian women, Law and order, Uncategorized

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I loved this story that appeared in the English-speaking part of ANSA news service this weekend:

Woman, 88, sees off thief

‘I would have chased him if it weren’t for my artificial hip’

(ANSA) – Pordenone, September 30 – An 88-year-old Italian woman got rid of a thief in her house Thursday, telling him he should be ashamed of himself and get a job.

The man turned up on her door in the northern city of Aviano posing as an electricity-meter man the morning after she had celebrated her birthday with some friends, Rina Zorzin told Italian TV Friday after receiving the compliments of Mayor Stefano Del Cont Bernard.

“First he asked to see the meter and when I refused he took out a gun, thinking that would frighten me,” she said.

“But nothing scares me any more, at my age, so I jumped onto his back to stop him.

“He grabbed me round the wrists and forced me to sit down”.

Undaunted, Ms Zorzin taunted the would-be thief: “look all you want, look for gold, I’m not giving you anything”.

Then, when the man was looking elsewhere, she managed to get out of the house and shout for help, crying “thief, dirty thief, you ought to be ashamed, go and get a job”.

The would-be thief gave up and took flight, Zorzin said.

“I would have chased after him, too, if it weren’t for my artificial hip,” she told the RAI state TV corporation.

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What I love about the story is that this is the same kind of lady who will cheerfully elbow you out of the way at the meat counter or bus stop.  What I also love about it is that the thief gave up and ran away.  In the U.S. he might well have shot the old woman.

So Sorry!

28 Monday Mar 2011

Posted by in American habits and customs, Customs, Italian habits and customs, Italian women, Uncategorized

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Photo courtesy of dreamstime.com

The other day I followed a woman out of Costco, each of us pushing our heavily laden carts.  She moved away from the door and paused; I walked past her with my cart.  After I was past she said to me, “Oh, I’m sorry!”  It took me a full beat to figure out what she was talking about; evidently she felt by stopping she had somehow put herself in my way.  She hadn’t.  And she certainly didn’t owe me an apology.

This incident was preceded by no fewer than three other women apologizing for passing nearby in the aisles of the store.  What is it with American women? When did we become so apologetic for taking up a little space? For existing? It’s driving me nuts!  Women, answer this question honestly:  If you’re walking down the street and a person bumps into you, do you immediately say, “I’m sorry?”

I’m pretty sure that doesn’t happen so much in Italy!  Granted, if an Italian of either gender bumps into you, or you into him, there will follow a two-minute scusi-fest.  But space is always shared in Italy, be it on the narrow roads or in the narrow shopping aisles.  Simply being in close proximity to another is not a misdemeanor. I’ve never had the feeling that my Italian women friends feel they must apologize if they’re taking up a patch of ground that someone else might wish to occupy.  Perhaps it’s simply that Americans have a much larger sense of ‘personal space’ than do Italians.  There’s more space in the U.S. for everything, so perhaps we Americans create larger ‘me-mine’ zones than do residents of more crowded countries.

I first noticed this apology trend about 10 years ago.  Three women friends and I took a vacation together in California.  We made a pact at the very start of the holiday that whoever said, “I’m sorry” would put a quarter in the kitty.  It worked pretty well, and I think we all finished the holiday feeling we were a much less ‘sorry’ bunch.  And how rich the kitty was! Maybe that experience overly sensitized me.

It’s just that I hate to hear women apologizing when they have no reason to. And yes, it seems to be only women – certainly not men, and rarely young people.  And it seems to be happening more and more here in America.

Ladies – Stop It!  You have every right to be exactly where you are.    Please, if you catch yourself apologizing for passing close to someone else or when someone else bumps into you,  put a quarter in a kitty and save up for a treat for yourself (I hope a very small treat).

Church!

03 Monday Jan 2011

Posted by in American habits and customs, Italian Churches, Italian women, Italy

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Here’s a switch.  usually I write about my experiences as an expatriate, either in Italy, where I truly am one, or in Arizona, where I mostly just feel like one.  Our friends Elena and Michela arrived from Italy yesterday, and now I get to see our country through their expatriated eyes.

Being practicing Catholics they went to mass this morning at the closest appropriate church, the Church of the Holy Cross in Mesa which is a half hour’s drive away.  Now if only they were Mormons, Methodists, Baptists or Lutherans I could have accommodated them in a matter of a few minutes.  Don’t let the photo above fool you – the place was mobbed for 10 a.m. mass.  I had to go to a nearby shopping center to find a parking place while I waited for my friends.  There are two churches, and there was standing room only.

How was it different? I asked.  In lots of ways, it turns out.  First, in Italy going to church is mostly women’s work.  If you see a solitary man in church he is very likely a recent widower, according to Elena.  Here you see many couples and families worshipping together; it is more the rule than the exception.  And it is beyond rare in Italy to see the church packed to the gills and overflowing for Sunday mass.

In Italy the congregants are offered only the host.  Here they are offered both host and wine, either for sipping or dipping.

The wafers are thinner and yellower than those in Italy, but Elena opined the caloric value was probably about the same.

Going to the altar for communion can be very disorderly in Italy with everyone getting as close as they can as fast as they can.  Likewise, people come and go at will, frequently not remaining for the whole mass.  At the service today Elena observed that everyone formed a line to take communion, and each person patiently awaited his turn.  No one left early.

She was enthusiastic about the music, which was almost like a concert.  Everyone sang!  In Italy only a few wurbley-voiced matrons participate, but here the singing was hearty and heart-felt.

So what were the impressions she came away with in general?  She was impressed by the number of people and the active and orderly participation in all parts of the service.  But she found herself wondering if there was the same spirit of joy in today’s mannerly congregation as she frequently sees in the smaller masses of her home church in Italy.  She couldn’t say yes, or no, but it was an interesting question for all of us.

Fabulous Italian Footwear

31 Sunday Oct 2010

Posted by in Italian men, Italian style, Italian women

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Recently we took a friend over to see Portofino, and were well rewarded for the effort when we came upon a young bride and groom having a photo-shoot at Chiesa San Giorgio, above the port.

Aren’t they adorable?  That’s Castello Brown in the background.  And no, we have no idea who this happy couple is.  At first we just thought, ‘aw shucks, how sweet…’  Then we got a closer look at the groom and noticed his unusual footwear:

Hey!  Those are blue high tops!  What an improvement over tight shiny leather when you have to be on your feet and feeling your best for the afternoon and evening.  But best of all was when we realized that the bride went to the same shoemaker:

I don’t know which I like better, the blue or the yellow.  I think maybe the yellow.  The bigger question, though, is this: is this the new Wedding Style for the year ahead?  Will all brides and grooms be cantering down the aisle in athletic footwear?  Not a bad idea, now that I think of it, very handy when they try to escape from all those people who are throwing things at them after the ceremony.  And oh!  how comfortable!

Marcus of Umbria

26 Thursday Aug 2010

Posted by in Animals in Italy, Dogs, Italian men, Italian women, Italy, Uncategorized

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Book Jacket by Andre Mora

Seldom do I receive an offer to review a book; this was certainly a title I couldn’t resist accepting.  If you love Italy, dogs or both, you won’t want to resist reading it yourself.

Justine van der Leun is a young woman who knows what she wants, whether it’s walking on two feet or four.  Sometimes when she gets what she wants it turns out that she doesn’t want it after all (handsome Italian lover, horse), but sometimes when she gets what she wants it turns out to be life-altering (Marcus).

Justine moves to Italy to live with a man she’s known all of three weeks in the small Umbrian town of Collelungo, population hovering around 200.  There she quickly learns that she has not taken on just the man, but his entire family as well, and they have taken her on, too.  Without a strong extended family background of her own, the realities of an Italian family are a shock to our heroine, and one to which she can never entirely adapt. (There’s a lot here about the strength of the matriarch in the Italian family.)  Also shocking is for Justine to see Italy as it really is, not as we imagine it from movies and other move-to-Italian-paradise books.  Justine may have come to Italy, but it was no paradise.

She remains in Collelungo a year, during which time she adopts a darling but challenging canine whom she christens Marcus. (You’ll learn quite a bit about the rather unfortunate circumstances of Italy’s hunting dogs.)  Despite the doggy title, Justine ends up learning a terrific amount, not just about love but about life, from the family and from the town.  Even more, she learns to know herself a lot better.  That journey is the heart of book, and it is a delight.  Strong-willed, intelligent and, perhaps, a bit privileged and naive, Justine is thrown into a situation where people still kill their own food, where self-sufficiency is a way of life and a point of honor.  She has the grit , humor and humility to absorb the lessons that are offered by the experience.  She’s a modern, witty young woman, and she’s a terrific writer.

What I enjoyed most about the book is that it shows Italy as it truly is in a great many places.  She lived in the ‘real’ Italy, not the Italy of the touristic centers of  Venice, Rome, Florence, not the Italy of ‘Chiantishire’ in Tuscany, or the sun-drenched Riviera.  People in Collelungo are patient, they are sometimes slow, they work incredibly hard, they probably know how to hold a grudge.  Because they live in a town of only 200,  there is nothing they do not know about their neighbors, whom they are very likely to accept just as they are, and they have no secrets of their own. They are not sophisticated, traveled, particularly well-schooled (though some of the young now are); they remember what it was like to be impoverished.  But they know how to laugh, cook, eat, fight, and laugh some more.  As Justine says, they have tailored their expectations to what they have; they are happy.

Photo by ?

And what about Marcus?  She (yes, she) is the agent of Justine’s greatest lesson: responsibility for our actions.  As she herself says, “I had willfully shifted another being’s course, and that meant that I was technically morally bounded to ensure her well-being for a lifetime”.  That doesn’t stop her from making a few more blunders, but one of the most refreshing aspects of this book is the humor with which Justine is able to admit her own shortcomings.

No, she’s not perfect; and neither is Italy or Umbria or her boyfriend and his family, or Marcus (bit of a chicken issue there).  But they all have something wonderful to offer and Justine is smart enough to take it all in.  Her boyfriend’s family, the Crucianis, are as warmly and honestly drawn as is Italy.   And always there’s the sense of humor.

There’s nothing pretentious about Justine van der Leun or her book.  I don’t know her, but having read the book I feel like she’s a friend.  I think you’ll like her too.

Mobster Caught by a Plate of Spaghetti

18 Wednesday Aug 2010

Posted by in Crime, Customs, Italian men, Italian women, Uncategorized

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Mobster undone by love of mamma’s cooking

Fugitive Camorra clan suspect captured while tucking in

17 August, 17:10

Mobster undone by love of mamma's cooking

(ANSA) – Naples, August 17 – A suspected member of the Neapolitan mafia, the Camorra, has been arrested by Italian police after being unable to resist his mother’s culinary delights.

Rosario Scognamillo, a 39-year-old suspected of being a high-ranking member of the Grimaldi Camorra clan, was captured by agents Monday while having lunch at his mother’s home.The man, who is accused of criminal association related to drugs trafficking, had been on the run since May. He may have thought his return home would not be noticed with many Italians relaxing on their summer holidays at the moment.

The above was in the English section of the morning’s ANSA web-site. Could there be anything that speaks more clearly of the Italian male’s love of his mother and her cooking?  I imagine she was doing his laundry while he ate, before heading over to the hideout to give it a good clean.

We have frequently been struck by the way Italian parents serve their children.  It is sweet and loving, but we’re not sure it’s doing Italian boys any favors.  According to an NBC report, more than half of Italian men between 25 and 35 years old still live with their parents.  The young women I know tell me they do not want Italian husbands – they are too spoiled.  I wonder if the same thing is going on in the US?

In any case, it certainly makes the job easier for the police, doesn’t it?

Picture Rocks Fire Department Rocks!

28 Sunday Feb 2010

Posted by in American habits and customs, Animals in the U.S., Arizona, Italian women, Uncategorized

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Our friends Elena and Michela, sisters, arrived from Italy for a visit a couple of weeks ago.  It was their first ever plane ride and, obviously, their first visit to the USA.  We ran ourselves ragged seeing the sights the Phoenix-Tucson area offers, and each day I asked them what had impressed/amused/irritated them the most.

The answers were pretty much the same each day – everything is bigger here than in Italy (cars, roads, even the host at communion); everything is so clean. Elena was fascinated by the Adopt-a-Highway program, something which does not (yet) exist in Italy.

But the thing that amazed them the most, over and over, was how friendly and welcoming people here are.  (Interestingly, when we moved to Italy we were struck by how very welcoming people there were to us.)   Elena and Michela both enjoy meeting new people in new situations.  Michela has a special gift for drawing people out.  Her secret?  She just walks up to people and starts speaking to them in Italian; they are completely charmed.  Then it’s my turn to insinuate myself as translator, and before you know it, we all have some new friends.

Nowhere was this better illustrated than in Picture Rocks, north of Tucson.  The famous Mrs. Harris took Elena, Michela and me to the fascinating and beautiful Arizona-Senora Desert Museum.  If you’re ever in Arizona this is so worth a visit –  you can learn about all the Sonora Desert plants and see all the animals that are residents, including (among many others) the Harris Hawk

and the dozy mountain lion.

But the really exciting part of the day happened as we were on our way home.  A big red fire engine pulled in to the gas station where we stopped to tank up.  As Michela is an avid amateur photographer, Mrs. H marched up to the firemen and asked if it would be alright if Michela photographed the truck.

Of course! was the answer.  They couldn’t have been nicer.  They opened up all the doors and secret compartments of the engine so she could photograph them, and explained what all the different tools were and how they are used.  Then they got permission from the Fire Chief to give Michela a ride to the fire station in the truck.

(Not the best picture ever taken of Michela, but one that shows her glee.)

Back at the fire station the kindness escalated.  We were all given Fire Department tee shirts – deep blue, my color!  Then they found a helmet for Michela to try on, and before we knew it, she was all kitted out in complete fire-fighting regalia.

We were given a tour of the whole building – including the kitchen where the smell of cooking brisket got our appetites revved up.

Some of the firemen who weren’t present at the moment were summoned, and we took pictures of the whole  group in front of the beautiful fire engine.

They showed us the small plastic name tags that they each have attached to the inside of their helmets with velcro.  Anyone who goes into a burning building removes his name tag and leaves it with those remaining outside.  That way, as one of the firemen told us, “they’ll know whose mother to call.”  It was a reminder that much of their work is hot, dirty, hard, dangerous and unhappy.  They each removed their name tags and velcroed them to a strip of cloth for Michela to take back to Italy, a symbol of a new friendship – it was a real hands across the ocean moment.

Picture Rocks Fire Department employs about 64 people, men and women, and covers an area of about 64 square miles.  They are very likely to be called out numerous times daily, because in addition to fighting fires, they are the emergency response team.

All in all we spent about an hour and a half at the fire station – it was the highlight of the sisters’ visit to Arizona, and certainly one of the most interesting and moving experiences I’ve ever had here. Every member of the team was generous and kind to us, for no reason other than that that’s how they are. It was humbling.

And oh yeah – they gave Michela the helmet to take home, too – a real helmet that had been damaged and can no longer be used.  Our friends left on Thursday evening, and they had an interesting time packing around that helmet.  But they, and the helmet, have arrived safely back in Rapallo with some memories which we hope they will never forget; we know we won’t.

Here are a few more photos from our visit to the Picture Rocks Fire Department which, I have to imagine, is the best Fire Department in the world.

Fire Chief: Kathy Duff-Stewart - 27 years service with the department!

Fire Chief Kathy Duff-Stewart, 27 years service with the department!

Our Clean House

05 Saturday Sep 2009

Posted by in American habits and customs, Customs, Italian habits and customs, Italian women, Italy, Uncategorized

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cleaningAccording to a 2006 article in the Corriere by Elvira Serra, American women spend an average of 4 hours a week doing housework.  Italian women beat them, hands down. Here are the details:  “80% of Italian women iron everything, including socks and handkerchiefs, 31% have a dishwasher, 2% use scrubbing brushes and 1% have a clothes dryer [Electricity is very costly in Italy, so most people don’t want a clothes dryer]. In the end, Italians devote twenty-one hours a week to household chores, of which five are spent ironing. Cooking is not included in the total.”  So, 21 hours a week for Italian women and 4 for Americans.

These figures don’t tell the whole story, either.  By and large, Italian homes are much smaller than American homes.  The average house size in the U.S. is +/- 2300 square feet.  Here in Italy, the average is 700-1100 square feet.  So Italian women are spending 4 times the hours to take care of half, or less than half, the space.

This got me thinking, of course.  Back when I had a full time job in Connecticut, we hired someone to clean the house.  And wouldn’t you know, Kathy, and later Peg,  came for 4 hours a week and took very good care of our 2700 square foot house.  When we moved to Italy we continued our practice, and Lada cleaned our house for almost four years.  (When her second child arrived, Lada retired… but she worked until 2 weeks before Daniel’s arrival, that’s how great she was.)  Lada worked 4.5 hours a week, and did a terrific job on our 1184 square foot house, but ironing was not included in her job description, just cleaning.

Why does it take so much longer in Italy?  Because in Italy a basic weekly clean includes a lot more than in the States.  In the States the job entailed dusting, vacuuming, cleaning the bathrooms (but not the kitchen – there wasn’t time), and mopping the bathroom and kitchen floors.  When I knew Lada was leaving I watched carefully to learn how to clean in the Italian style.  First she carried all the rugs outside and gave them a good shake, and left them hanging over a railing.  Then she dusted and vacuumed.  In particularly high traffic areas (kitchen, stairs) she first swept, and then vacuumed.  Then she washed all the floors, which meant moving all the light furniture around and then replacing it.  Then she carried the rugs back in and vacuumed them.   The house sparkled.  After Lada retired I took over, and it takes me about 5.5 or 6 hours to do what she did in 4.5.  But I do it all (over two days) because the house looks so nice afterwards.

Mr. CleanAnother big difference between here and there is the number of cleaning products.  (The French gentleman above lives in Italy, too.  Here his name is Mastro Lindo.)  mastrolindoIn the States we used amonia in the water to wash the tile floors, window cleaner for the windows, and, if we were feeling really fancy, some kind of spray on the dust cloths.  We also had special polish for the wooden furniture, which we polished once or twice a year.  Here there is an endless parade of cleaning products, each aimed at a very specific task – one to clean porcelain basins, another to clean tile floors and walls, another to clean stone, another to clean wooden floors, polish for furniture, window cleaners, anti-calcium cleaners (liquid for topical use, powder to add to the clothes washer) – it’s quite confusing to know exactly what to get. (According to the Corriere article, when Unilever tried to market a one-cleaner-does-it-all product it was a complete flop.)  In desperation I’ve begun to make some of my own cleansers, but just the basic ones.  I’m an American cleaner after all, it seems, a 4-hour a week girl.  Even without another job I can’t imagine spending 21 hours a week on household chores.  Nor can I imagine ironing the Captain’s socks!

Why do Italian women spend so much time cleaning?  The Corriere article answers:  “Perhaps a British poll can throw some light on the issue. The Discovery Channel Home and Health website asked 2,000 women aged from 18 to 80:  59% said that cleaning their homes made them feel in control of their own lives and 60% found housework “mentally therapeutic”.”  Well, there is a certain zen-like monotony to house cleaning – you do the same old things in the same old way every week, and then you get to do it again the next week and the next.  I guess that’s therapy of a sort.  Me?  I’d rather take my therapy in a swimming pool, at the gym or, better yet, at the dining table!

In the Old Way

27 Thursday Aug 2009

Posted by in Italian habits and customs, Italian men, Italian women, People, Uncategorized

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Our neighbors down the street still cook with wood, and, we suspect, heat their home with it as well. Their chimney tells the tale, no matter how warm the day.  Even this week, with temperatures at 37 C,  brushing 100 F, the mid-day smoke has appeared.

cooking with wood-1

We don’t know these neighbors, but every now and then we see them. She is elderly and plump and wears long skirts and a wary expression. He motors ever so slowly up and down the hill in his aged ape, frequently carrying  precariously balanced  fruit boxes with him, fuel for the stove. Where does he get them? I wish I could ask him, but they seem wary of strangers, and to them I suspect we are the strangest of the strange.

Other neighbors farther down the street seem to be laying in a good store of wood for the winter ahead. At least we are unable to think of any other reason for this massive collection of wooden pallets.

wood pallettes-2

I can’t imagine having to struggle up the narrow stone stairs on the left to carry fuel to my home (if, in fact, the collector lives up there). In fact, I can’t imagine cooking and heating using fruit boxes and wooden pallets for fuel. But our neighbors do it, and I admire them for it – no doubt it’s the way people cooked for years, using whatever fuel was readily at hand.  What a great way to recycle what otherwise might end up in the dump.