TAKING A SECOND LOOK - A "LET'S BLOG OFF" POST

Every two weeks, the blogosphere comes alive with something called a Blog Off. A Blog Off is an event where bloggers of every stripe weigh in on the same topic on the same day. The topic for this round of the Blog Off is "Taking a Second Look".

When I saw the theme for this week's Blog Off  - changing the way in which you perceive someone or something - I tried to think back to my early days in Sicily and the things I found strange.  Believe me, there were plenty, even for someone like me who has spent most of her life studying Italian culture and who is fluent in the language.  When you change your country, the things that disturb or worry you are not always the "big" issues in your life but seemingly trivial occurences which can throw you off-balance.  It is, of course, a manifestation of "culture shock", which is a known psychological condition.  The good news is that it does not last forever and you look back with amusement at your former self and the assumptions you made.

Modica  - Corso Umberto, di notte

I've mentioned the signora I call "Eleonora" before but for those of you who are new to my musings, she is an elderly, very elegant lady who takes her passeggiata at the same time every evening and her fashionable, expensive attire never fails to turn heads.  The first time I saw her , from a café terrace one Sunday, I stopped eating my gelato mid-scoop, so striking a sight was she.  As I watched this senior citizen gliding  along the Corso like Marilyn Monroe, I wondered if she was, indeed, playing a part in some film and I actually looked around for the cameraman.  This was because the lady's makeup, clothing and hairstyle would have been considered "overdone" back in the UK, where she would probably have attracted laughter rather than admiration.  And so it was that I began to change the way I judged people's appearance: elegance is always "in" in Italy, whatever the occasion, and the concept of overdressing simply does not exist.

Cuddles with my great aunt Mabel
Xmas Day, 1950

In the six years I have been here, and especially since an illness in 2008, I have become very aware that my attitude to ageing is changing. How can you explain to a younger person how it feels to grow old?  The answer is that you can't so you might as well save yourself the bother.  When I remember my mother in her sixties, I am amazed at her physical energy and I often find myself thinking of my lovely grandad and great aunt, who lived with us when I was a child.  They seemed so old to me but when I was adopted in 1950, they were not much older than I am now.  How I wish I could talk to them today and apologise for my youthful impatience! 


Ageing was, perhaps, the one thing that I hadn't bargained for when I moved to Italy:  oh, I knew it would happen, but I had no idea what it was like!   I ponder the fact that, although I am covered by the Italian health service, hospital patients here do not routinely receive non-medical care;  this means that, if you need help to go to the bathroom, for instance, it will not be forthcoming from the nursing staff.  Yesterday I heard of an elderly female hospital patient who is paying her cleaner € 100 per night to help her in this way and it worries me.


However, it is as useless to fret about the next illness as it is to live in a constant state of angst over the next wrinkle, as there is nothing to do but "keep buggering on", in Churchill's words.

My slightly tanned, Modican Santa

                                                                

My final reflection on the theme is a seasonal one for, over the past eighteen years, I have completely revised my attitude to Christmas:  After my dad died, I hated this period because I missed him so much and Ebenezer Scrooge became my hero. I have my beloved Sicilians to thank for teaching me, after my mother's death, to love Christmas again and one year, back in old Cardiff, I decided that it was a betrayal of my parents, who had given me such wonderful Christmases, not to at least try to enjoy the festival.  So now I decorate like crazy, bake Christmas treats, play seasonal music for a month and I even get upset when it's time to take the decorations down!  

I have come to the conclusion that, if you are brave enough to admit your mistakes and are prepared, at any age, to learn and have your mind changed, you might just stay young.  And signora Eleonora has taught me that, whilst beauty may fade, glamour doesn't have to.  Now, where are my false eyelashes?

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Frank Sinatra - Young at Heart

Below is the complete list of blogs participating in this theme:

SPLEEN

Just so that you know that life isn’t all outdoor feasts and happy tomato squashing here, I thought I’d write about the downside today. Now of course you could say, as I might be tempted to say to those who settle in and then grumble about my own country, “If you don’t like it, go home” but I am not trying to change the democratic ethos of the Italian State or the general culture of a country I have loved all my adult life. It is possible to settle in, love and feel very protective about a place yet still find irritations, just as you do in your country of origin. And it is important to point out that , with the exception of the eternal bureaucracy, there are compensations for every one of the following annoyances:

1. Top of the irritations list has to be bureaucracy and I’ve written about it before. Sometimes you can feel as if the government exists simply to make life harder by thinking up new procedures which hinder your day to day business. An example? Back in January we all received, from the utility companies, new forms to fill in giving our dati catastali [land registry details] so that, under Art 1, comma 333 of Law no 311 of 30/12/04 the companies know whom they are supplying. OK, it wasn’t particularly burdensome to fill in the form and fax it back, but you might have thought they already had this information when they agreed to supply you in the first place. Nearly all small stationers and tobacconists offer photocopying and fax services because this sort of requirement rains down upon citizens from on high nearly every day. There is one piece of bureaucracy that I have changed my mind about, however, and that is the fact that you receive a visit from the police in your proposed dwelling before you can be deemed resident in a town: at least, in this way, the Italians have some hope of knowing just who is in their country.

2. Closely linked to no. 1 is my pet hate , the Post Office. Rather than droning on about it again , I refer new readers to this post. You may also like to look at this.

3. I have received an enormous energy bill for the winter months. Admittedly, I have Raynaud’s disease, feel the cold and do not have the Italian and particularly Sicilian attitude of “Wear an extra jumper and put up with it”. But even so I don’t see how my bill can be twice what it was for the same period last year – unless there is a punishment for high consumption that has not been made public? This has really got me down over the past week.

4. This time of the year is the most difficult for me and I have come to call it the “silly season”: shops often do not re-open in the afternoon during July and August and many close completely for at least a couple of weeks, as do bars and restaurants. There is a notice in the chemist’s around the corner stating that they will be closed from 6th – 30th August. How can you have a business and abandon your clinetèle for the best part of a month? It wouldn’t be so bad if pharmacy products were sold in supermarkets as in Britain and “Roll on, liberalizzazione” [the freeing up of the market so that they will be] I say. The small traders deserve to lose some of their customers. They would claim, of course, that it is their clientèle who abandon them during July and August, leaving for their houses in the countryside or at the sea; and I say, “Yes, and the tourists come and what do they find? A closed down city.” Many blog readers have commented that it must be a joy to still have these small shops and in many ways it is; you are known, greeted, exchange pleasantries, receive advice and generally feel that your custom is valued. But there is also an inconvenience factor which it is hard for British people, and I guess Americans, to remember; we’ve been able to find everything at the supermarket for so long!

5. While I am having a moan about shops, I still sometimes want to be left alone to browse in one rather than having the assistant on my heels. The assistants would be horrified if they thought their behaviour was off-putting as they think they are providing good service. But particularly if I am looking for clothes or underwear I want to be free to look first. The same goes for CDs, actually – I’ve yet to find a browsable CD store in Modica. A friend who came to stay with me a while back picked a handbag up from a display in one of the stores on Sacro Cuore - as you would in Britain – and was shouted at by the assistant. I pointed out that my friend was British and asked how she was supposed to know that this is not done in Italian stores, at which the assistant calmed down. This illustrates a cultural difference but the fact that the girl reacted thus also points to poor staff training.

6. There are no heel bars and no nail bars! And Modica needs a good department store – please!

7. There is still a lack of foreign ingredients in supermarkets. This area does not have anything like the immigration that Britain has but there is a Chinese and a small Muslim population. You can now find some Chinese and North African ingredients but they are very few. I don’t think it is totally to do with not catering for the immigrant population; it is also to do with Italians not being very adventurous about food. As Victoria Granof points out in Sweet Sicily, “Something to bear in mind is that unlike Americans, who are always trying new recipes, Sicilian cooks may make a handful of recipes in their lifetime – over and over and over.” This does mean, of course, that they keep their culinary traditons and this is one of the things that is so attractive about the island. But it still seems strange to a British person not to be able to find spices that we now take for granted. Even herbs [apart from the ubiquitous oregano] are, surprisingly, more difficult to obtain here, especially basil in winter. No just throwing several pots of supermarket “growing herbs” into my trolley each week, all year round, as I did in Britain! [Yes, I do grow them on the balcony but the trouble is I use them!] Sicilians would counter that, with their own food being so fresh and so good, why should they want to try anyone else’s? And I have to admit I find that one hard to argue with.

Right: that’s another few matters off my chest. I think it’s time to stroll down the road for a freshly made evening granita and to buy, on the way back, some nectarines whose heavenly scent pervaded the street when they were freshly delivered at the greengrocer's this morning. Then I’ll come back, throw my shutters open and enjoy the “song of the south “ – the cicadas’ mating calls. [Gosh, they are at it a lot today and good luck to them!]

THEOLOGY, "YU" AND ME

I am digressing from the Sicilian scene today and present you with the record of a conversation I had one Easter with a Chinese student whom I shall call Yu and to whom I taught English on a one-to-one basis. Yu was a pleasant, enthusiastic young man and he wanted to know everything about Britain and British life. I have three excuses for including the conversation in this blog: [1] I always think back to it at Easter and smile, [2] it is time to post something lighter and [3] it does say something about language learning and about cultural assumptions when you move to another country. As a teacher, I have always believed that when a student asks you a question you should answer it honestly and to the best of your ability but, as will become clear, the more I tried to give Yu the information he craved the deeper became the theological pit into which I dug myself!

Yu: "I want you explain me some British festivals, please."
So we start with Christmas and I say that we think it was the time of Christ's birth.
Yu: "Why, when people surprised, they say 'Jesus Christ'?"
Me: "It's just an expression but it upsets some people. Look up 'blasphemy' in your electronic dictionary."
Yu: "Oh."
We get through the Christmas explanation fairly smoothly up to this point and it turns out that Yu does know of Santa Claus.
Yu: "I know man in red and white with white beard."
When we come to Easter, I explain about eggs being a symbol of fertility and about the chocolate tradition and then we come to the religious part. I say that Good Friday is a sad day for Christians because it is the day Christ died.
Yu: "Why it called good Friday if it day Jesus die?"
Me [never having considered this before]: "I don't know. Maybe because he was a good man."
I go on to say that Easter Sunday is a happy day because it is the day Christ came back to life.
Yu: "He only dead 2 days?!"
Me: "Well, we think so."
Yu: " So he die on Good Friday, he only dead 2 days and then he come back to life?"
Me: "Err - yes."
Next is Whitsun, so I say that we do have a spring bank holiday but it is no longer on a day that coincides with Whitsun. I say that this is the time when Christ went back to heaven.
Yu: "So he die on Good Friday, he only dead 2 days, he come back to life, then after 2 months he go back heaven?"
Me: "That's about right."
Yu: "Busy guy!"
Yu: "What is difference between Catholic person and Protestant person?"
I tell him about the Pope, Henry Vlll and the Archbishop of Canterbury. I add that one of the main differences is that Catholics pray to [I didn't complicate it with "through"] Mary.
Yu: "Mary Jesus mother?"
Me: "Yes."
Yu: "So she Mother Christmas?"
Me: "No, she is Mary, the mother of Jesus but she is not Mother Christmas because Christmas is the festival, not a person."
Yu: "But I see picture of Jesus baby with man and woman. This not Mother Christmas and Father Christmas?"
Me: "No, Father Christmas is the same as Santa Claus."
Yu: "Oh. Anybody pray to Jesus father?"
Me [deciding not to go into the fact that Catholics pray to or through some saints and that Joseph is one of them]: "Well, Christians believe that Jesus's father is God."
Yu: "Man in picture not Jesus father?" [I can see where this is leading.]
Me: "Mary was married to Joseph but she didn't sleep with him before she gave birth to Jesus because Jesus is the son of God."
Yu: "How they do that?"
Me [thinking, "If I knew, I'd be the Pope"]: "Look up 'miracle' in your electronic dictionary."