SICILY SCENE'S REVIEW OF 2016

The year which drew to a close yesterday was the one in which it became clear to me that the world has learnt nothing from the tragedies and disasters of the last century. Here, a little late, is my review of it:

Ups

Most unexpectedly, falling in love again.

Spending Christmas in Norwich with the sister I have known for only two years and walking through a bauble in that fair city!

Downs

The down side of falling in love - being dumped. It is a much worse experience, I have discovered, than it was when I was young, for there are now so many places to be dumped from, such as social media.

Brexit - even more devastating.

Continuing to hear of needless migration tragedies as the world looks on and does nothing.


Recipe of the year

Of those I have invented myself, this is the one I like best.

Chicken with cedri and Prosecco

Books of the year

The two best books I read in Italian during 2016 were Pesce d'aprile and Lacrime di Sale, Dr Pietro Bartolo's account of migrant tragedies as they affect Lampedusa. I'll shortly be reviewing Lacrime di Sale on Sicily Scene.

The most interesting book I read in English in 2016 was Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. Besides telling a gripping story, the book explained to me a conflict which took place during my lifetime but which I knew next to nothing about.

Film of the year

This is related to my second book choice above. It is Fuocoammare.


Italian logic prize

This goes to Rai and the Italian government for this scheme and their strange definition of the term rata [installment].  Predictably, after July consumers were required to pay not one "installment" for the TV licence fee but the remaining six in one go!


Hopes for 2017

Once again, I hope the world wakes up to the fact that we are all migrants and I want to see safe corridors for today's migrants and an end to migration tragedies. I want to hear more from the voices of peace and less from those of belligerance.

I wish you all peace, health and love, wherever you are.

Happy New Year and thank you for reading Sicily Scene!

Buon Anno e grazie di aver letto la Sicily Scene!

You can find links to all my migration posts here and to my adoption posts here.

MORE ITALIAN LOGIC

Yesterday in the bank there were - I kid you not - around 200 people waiting and just two functioning counters. People were standing around in small groups, chatting and complaining, but no one complained to a person in a position to do anything about it.  This was probably due to resignation rather than laziness or a desire not to upset anyone, for everybody knew full well that the most likely response would be a shrug with the word "Pazienza" and that no action would be taken.

After an hour, my own pazienza was wearing thin and I asked a clerk at a closed counter if she could tell me why, when there were so many clients waiting, only two counters were open. Her reply was,

"Ah, but there are three counters working. It's just that I have other things to do so my counter isn't open to the public."

Now, maths is not my strong point but two counters working and one closed equals two counters working, not three, or have I missed something here, dear reader?  In the end I gave up and went for a gelato.

A TO-DO AT THE DOCTOR'S

Having given in to la febbre on Wednesday, on Thursday I reluctantly took myself to the doctor's; "reluctantly" firstly because I'm British and we carry on and secondly because of the inevitable wait that the occasion would involve.

In my doctor's surgery there is a collection of numbered metal discs on a desk by the door and a notice asking patients to take one, but no one does as this would be too much like organisation and would also limit the possibilities of social discourse. Sicilians think it is much more fun, after you have passed the time of day with all your fellow-patients individually, to look around and ask, "Who's the last one?"  L'ultimo having piped up, you know who you have to watch, and watch is what you do, for no magazines are provided and no one takes along anything to read.

If, however, one of the "patients" is wearing a suit, sitting in a self-assured way and has a bulky briefcase at his feet, you know that your wait will be even longer than usual, for this is a pharmaceutical company rep and one of these gentlemen is allowed to go into the consulting room after every two patients.  This system seems most unfair to me when there is a roomful of sick people but "Pazienza - What can we do?"  Yesterday my heart sank when I saw not one, but two self-assured gentlemen with bulky briefcases in the waiting room and summoned my reserves of hard-learned Sicilian resignation.

Just after I had arrived, a couple came in and asked the usual question, "Chi è l'ultimo?" The elderly man next to me was about to say that he was when a woman dashed in and said the honour was hers, explaining that she'd been outside.

"If you're waiting you can't be outside", said the elderly man, continuing, with unarguable logic, "because inside is inside and outside is outside."

At this everybody except me - I still felt too ill - joined in, all at the same time, of course and one patient shouted,

"Anyway, how do we know you were outside?"

That did it!

"Are you doubting my word?" asked the young woman in a horrified tone.

"No", chorused the company, "we're just saying that inside is inside and outside is outside and you should be inside because how do we know you're inside if you're outside?"

By this time the wife who had started the whole thing with her question was on the phone to her daughter, relating the incident in even louder tones than the shouting and everybody else had turned to the person next to them for confirmation that outside was outside, an assurance which was given at full volume in every case. One of the reps had completed his sales spiel to the doctor, too and, when he left the consulting room, silence suddenly fell as we all held our breath for a fight over who would go in next - the elderly man or the inside-outside woman. But Sicilian chivalry won the day:

"Si accomodi, signora " ["After you"], said the elderly man with a dignified nod of his head, looking around as if it was the most obvious course of action in the world and as if he was wondering what we were all gaping at.

Just him and one more rep and I was in, too!

ITALIAN LOGIC PRIZE 2012

One of the earliest posts I wrote on this blog, back in 2006, was partly about the public conveniences - or lack of them - in Modica and the condition of the facilities that did exist, mostly in bars, at that time. Four years later, I wrote this for Italy Magazine.  I'm glad to say that the toilet seat situation has improved since then but there are still institutions and establishments that stubbornly prefer the seatless toilet because it is thought to be more hygienic. The owners or managers of these premises may like to take a look at this article from the BBC.

In that early blog post, I said that bar staff in Italy as a whole are understanding if passers-by just need to use the bathroom but this is changing and in larger cities like Catania or other tourist spots you are now likely to see notices informing you that you are expected to buy something if you want to use the facilties. This does not bother me as I don't mind paying  €0.80 for a coffee if I need to use the loo but I do suffer from a Brit's sense of bewilderment at the absence of public conveniences - you know, easily accessible toilets that are just toilets.

The British, who, as the outcomes of recent EU summits have shown, consider themselves "different" from the rest of Europe, tend to believe that the public convenience issue proves it and have openly wondered for over a century whether their Latin neighbours have stronger bladders.

Well, I can tell my fellow-countrymen tonight that I have solved the mystery: having dared to ask an Italian colleague today why we didn't purchase better quality toilet paper for the school, I was met with an expression of pure horror and the response,

"But people go to the toilet at home!"

ITALIAN LOGIC PRIZE 2011

Sicily Scene's 2011 Italian logic prize goes to a twelve-year-old student of mine who, when I explained to the class the British habit of giving houses names, deduced,

"Oh, so when you come home you say 'Ciao, Michael' to your house?!"

My former house in Cardiff, which I named Le Bateau Ivre

OUT OF THE MOUTHS OF BABES....

Image: http://free-clipart.net/

This week's Italian logic prize goes to a six-year-old student of mine who, when learning English numbers up to 29 yesterday, deduced that 21 must be "twenty-teen".  His companion, not to be outdone, decided that 24 is "twenty-floor".

MOUNTAIN GIRL'S PHOTO CHALLENGE - MONEY

My blogger friend mountain girl [do check out her blog] has brought back her excellent weekly photo challenge and this time, I thought I'd join in.

This week's theme is "money" and, though my photo is not very original, it does give me the opportunity to share with you a vignette from yesterday:



Handing me my change from a 50 euro note, a shopkeeper apologised that it was all in 5 euro notes. "Ma così ha più soldi, signora", ["This way you have more money"], he observed. "Questa è una logica che mi piace", ["That's the type of logic I like"], said I.

ITALIAN LOGIC PRIZE

There I was sitting innocently at work this morning when the doorbell went and I opened it to a policeman in full, gleaming uniform:

"You have an election poster in the window?" he asked.
"Yes", I replied. [My boss is a candidate in the forthcoming municipal elections.]
"It will have to come down", said he.
[I glanced at his gun and decided not to argue.] "OK, but I am only an employee. I'll call her immediately". [Boss "unreachable".]
"Would you like to take it down yourself?" I asked.
"I'm not allowed to touch it, signora".
I could see that he was not just going to leave so promised to take the poster down immediately and we shook hands.

Now, there are laws in Italy about where you can and can't put election posters and I can see that advertising space has to be paid for. However, as boss pointed out later, these are her premises and it does seem a little illogical that the police can't touch the poster for precisely that reason, yet can tell her what she can and can't display in her own window!