Tag Archives: Italian culture

Housing: How Italians Live

During my July trip to the US, I stayed with friends in different cities and types of homes, giving me fodder for reflection on differences in customs, styles, and expectations for housing in the US and Italy.

As I have mentioned before, renting an unfurnished apartment in Italy means completely unfurnished, so for our new home in Lecco we’ve had to put in a kitchen (including the sink) and all the appliances. (A friend here told me that she once looked at a place to rent which didn’t even have toilets!)

Appliances are different here. Refrigerators are smaller. Traditionally, Italian mammas shop for fresh food daily, so don’t need as much storage space for perishables, although the trend nowadays is to less-frequent visits to larger supermarkets, which leads to larger fridges.

In Italy, almost everyone has a (clothes) washing machine in their home, often installed in the kitchen or a bathroom (our second bathroom has a special washer-sized alcove, with pipes). In the US you’ll find shared, coin-operated machines in the basements of some apartment/condo buildings, but I’ve never seen this in Italy. Coin-operated storefront laundromats are a recent phenomenon here, and probably exist only in the big cities.

With an Italian home washing machine, a single load of laundry can take two hours, depending on the water temperature you select, because the washers heat their own water. This makes sense, since many homes have only one small, electric boiler to heat water for the shower and kitchen.

Most Italians don’t have clothes dryers. They are available, but, given the cost of electricity here (twice what Americans pay), a dryer would be very expensive to run. And dryers are bad for natural-fiber clothing – I much prefer line drying. We have a large drying rack out on the balcony which gets sun every afternoon, so things dry quickly. In winter, the trick is to hang wet clothes on or near the radiators, which humidifies the air as well as drying the clothes. In Milan I had mini drying racks designed to hang on the radiators. (In Switzerland, there is a communal drying area in the basement of some buildings. I don’t think Italians trust each other enough for that.)

Plugging in appliances can be a challenge. There are three types of electrical outlets in current use in Italy, plus one weird one that apparently enjoyed only brief popularity (I’ve only seen it in my in-laws’ former apartment in Rome). There are also variants on the two basic plugs, with or without grounding (many older buildings don’t have it, and it’s expensive to add). Aside from the grounding, it’s never been clear to me whether one type of outlet is safer or can carry more load than another. If you’ve got something that has to be plugged in at a particular spot and the plugs don’t match, you either use an adapter or change the plug on the appliance. There are never enough outlets in Italian homes; sometimes entire walls have no outlets, which can play havoc with room arrangements.

There never seems to be enough capacity, either. My in-laws’ Rome apartment was big, but very inadequately wired; you could never have two major appliances on at the same time. At night we always had to think about which bathroom water heater was already heated up and which needed to be turned on in preparation for morning showers; everything else had to be turned off before running the dishwasher, otherwise the fuses would trip and we’d have fumble our way down to the basement in the dark to turn the power back on. Here in Lecco, I’ve discovered, I can’t run the dishwasher and washing machine at the same time (this wasn’t an issue in Milan; our kitchen was too small to hold a dishwasher).

Homes are constructed differently, too. Basic building materials in Italy are concrete, brick, and sometimes stone. In the mountains, some houses are chalet-style, made of thick wooden planks. In the US, most modern houses are wood framed, with wooden or aluminum siding or stucco outside, and sheetrock inside. By European standards, they’re flimsy, and they catch fire easily. Fire trucks screaming down the street are a common sight in the US; in Europe, they’re rare. The few city fires I’ve heard of in Italy were in factories, though we do have a big problem with forest fires in the summer.

That Old College Spirit

Everyone in the world finds it cool to have logos and words from other parts of the world on their T-shirts. Here in Italy, you’d be surprised at how many people seem to have attended American Ivy League universities, until you realize that there are university logo shirts are for sale at many shops that have absolutely no connection to any of these institutions. Ironically, they’ll pile up a bunch of different universities together in one stack of shirts. At a Milanese shop currently in with the teenybopper crowd, there are shirts with Disney characters (unlicensed, I bet – there’s no copyright notice on them), “Cuba” in Coke-style lettering, and Georgetown University. I caused my daughter agonies of embarassment by asking the shopgirl: “Why Georgetown, in particular?” No other universities were represented in this particular shop, so I thought maybe the owner actually had some connection to it. The girl was merely confused; she had never heard of Georgetown University, and had no idea why they carried that particular logo.

The funniest shirt I’ve seen around lately says “The University of Yale.” I’m pretty sure the Yale regents did not approve that one.

Summer Lovin’ – An Italian Tradition of Infidelity

Summer in Italy is traditionally a time of marital infidelity. Not that Italians are terribly faithful to begin with; depending whose statistics you believe, many or most have betrayed their husbands or wives, and some do it regularly, at any time of year. (For the record: NOT speaking from experience here.)

But, when everyone’s away from home, things get even wilder. There’s a saying: “Ferragosto, moglie mia, non ti conosco,” which requires some explanation.

Ferragosto, on and around August 15th, is the big summer holiday, when you can confidently expect that EVERYTHING will be closed and almost everyone will be away from home. August 15th is the Feast of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary, but having a holiday at this time reflects the long-standing Christian tradition of co-opting the older pagan festivals, in this case the month-long Roman feriae Augusti (feast in honor of Augustus, the deified emperor). Nowadays, “Ferragosto” refers to the week or so around the 15th, as well as the day itself, much as Americans would refer to the “4th of July weekend” (note that Italians take a week, while Americans only get a weekend!).

So the translation would be: “[On] Ferragosto, wife of mine, I don’t know you.”

I perceive a dual meaning in this that I’m not sure was originally intended. Obviously the husband is speaking, so it could mean: “Wife, I’m pretending I don’t know you because I’m with my lover.” Or it could be the man taken aback by his wife’s behavior: “I’ve never seen you like this.”

Either case apparently applies. Every summer there are stories in the paper about people being caught out by mischances. Some years ago the police, in an effort to curb street prostitution, published the license plate numbers of men caught in flagrante in their cars with prostitutes. There were loud complaints about the invasion of privacy, and several cases which probably ended up in divorce court: the men had been ostensibly working hard back in the cities while their families were on vacation at the seaside. Their wives were not pleased at what hubby was doing for recreation, outside of all that hard work.

Today there’s a tongue-in-cheek editorial in Il Corriere della Sera about the dangers of cellphones during the summer vacation: how do you stay in touch with your lover, while spending intensive time with your family? A call at an inopportune moment will require a level of acting improvisation that most of us simply aren’t up to, and your spouse will be watching like a hawk for the opportunity to grab your cellphone and review its list of calls made and received (erasing the list is an admission of guilt). The article concludes: “If you have nothing to hide, you can have fun watching others. Every time a cellphone rings on the beach, in a restaurant, or in an alpine refuge, look around you: you’ll see terrified husbands and wives.”

Italian Brats

A survey cited by Zoomata says “a recent poll of 2,500 travel-industry professionals voted Italian kids the most obnoxious and unruly in the EU. … according to UNICEF, only 50% of parents [in Italy] reprimand their kids.”

I’d have to agree that many Italian parents are over-indulgent with their kids, and many young Italian children noticeably lack discipline and common courtesy. At my daughter’s riding school, I waged a never-ending battle to keep other people’s kids from running amok and scaring the horses during lessons. (Horses scare easily, and when they do, their riders often fall.)

This led to some surprising run-ins with small children. One three-year-old not only would not stop making noise, but gave me lip when I asked him to:

Me: “Stop that. You’ll scare the horses and someone could fall.”

Him: “I don’t care.”

Me: “Someone could get hurt!”

Him: “I don’t care. Anyway, it doesn’t hurt to fall.”

Me: “Oh, yes, it does. Want me to show you?”

Another child, when I asked him to be quieter, said “No.”

I asked: “Where’s your mother?”

“I’m not going to tell you.”

So I tucked him under my arm and carried him off to find her, to general astonishment. At least I resisted the very strong urge to spank him!

The teacher in my daughter’s elementary school put up with far worse. One boy called her a whore. She pretended not to hear, which surprised me. I’ve attended many schools, and in every one of them, that would have got the kid sent to the principal’s office, or suspended.

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.”