Tag Archives: Italian culture

Making Friends in Italy

This question came up recently on one of the expats-in-Italy boards I hang out on (it had coincidentally already been on my mind): How do you make friends with Italians?

Although most of the Italians I’ve met are warm and friendly and great fun to have dinner with, I’m not sure that I have any really close Italian friends. There are Italians with whom I can enjoy a long chat when the occasion happens to arise, but no one I’d call up and pour out my heart to when I need an understanding ear. I do have friends like that, both in Italy and elsewhere, they just don’t happen to be Italians.

I’ve observed, over the years I’ve been here, that most Italians don’t make friends as easily as many Americans do. I think it’s a matter of practice. Many Americans move around a great deal (most within America, some outside), and have repeatedly faced the need to make new friends. When you move a lot, you learn to get to know people quickly.

Most Italians stay all their lives in the city of their birth (if they possibly can); some never even move out of their original neighborhood, though they may commute across town for work. Some commute between cities, working somewhere during the week and returning home on weekends. Some are forced to migrate for work, but still maintain strong ties with their paese, a word meaning both “town” and “nation” – which reflects Italy’s long history as a collection of separate city-states.

Hometown ties extend even to strangers. When we first moved to Italy, our car (donated by my husband’s parents) had a license plate from Teramo, a town in Abruzzo. We drove it to Milan for our first reconnaissance visit. Late at night, at a toll booth just outside the city, a man in a car beside us shouted excitedly: “Are you from Teramo? That’s where I’m from, but I live here. I’m in the Guardia di Finanza. If you ever need any help, just look me up!” (The Guardia di Finanza are the financial police, who investigate accounting frauds, tax evasion, etc. – I hope never to need him!)

Kids usually stay in the same school for the complete cycle at each level: five years of elementary school, three of middle school, and five of high school. As far as I can tell, Italians form their enduring friendships during their school years, and, even if they grow up to be very different from those friends in lifestyle, experiences, careers, etc., they don’t feel a strong need for new friendships in later life.

I just ran across an article in the International Herald Tribune which suggests that this is also true in other European cultures: “the therapist stated categorically that people just did not make friends any longer in middle age. That advice, suggested Draguns, reflects cultural traditions in Germany and the Netherlands, where people tend to limit their friends to those they made in school and to keep the same friends through old age…”

I’ll be curious to hear from my European readers about this, to agree or refute or expand. I wonder: do Europeans feel that American-style friendships are shallow, because they happen so quickly? Some undoubtedly are, but not all. Some of my closest friendships have been formed very quickly, often with other third-culture kids who feel the same need I do to find the right people and make friends quickly.

See also: Rebecca’s view

Update: A few years later I began meeting and hanging out with il popolo della rete – Italians who are active online – and then began to find like-minded Italians to be friends with.

What’s your experience of making friends in Italy?

In Italy, Dyed Hair More Common than Natural

(for women)

I read somewhere that an astonishing proportion of Italian women dye their hair – was it 60% ? Wouldn’t surprise me. Look around you on the Milan metro any crowded morning, and it’s hard to find a woman who doesn’t dye her hair. There are plenty of blondes, few of them natural. A woman’s hair color is strictly her own choice and I have nothing to say against it, but I am perplexed as to how to handle the obviously old ladies who dye their hair blonde, red, etc. I’m not sure whether they simply like their hair that improbable color, or are trying to look younger than they are. Should I offer them a seat, or would they consider that an insult?

I saw an old lady on the street once whose hair was dyed blue. Not little-old-lady style blue-rinsed silver, but bright royal blue. I liked her instantly. I’m also fond of the ones who just leave their hair alone; they look a lot better than the dyed ones. I resist the impulse to congratulate them on their good taste.

“One theory on hair dye / hair styles is that older women want to hang on to the hair that they had when they felt their most attractive. Hence in the UK you will see a fair number of 50’s hair do’s on elderly ladies now…

The argument (which I subscribe to) about blonde is that as you get older your skin tone changes and blonde is more flattering to it! Though you should never go blonder than the colour you might have been as a toddler/small child.

I plan on making my hairdresser a major beneficiary of my disposable income until my hair is white enough to go really white – my Grandmother had lovely white hair which she wore in a chignon until her death at the age of 97!!!” – Judith

Holiday Hell – Italian Vacation Traffic

Almost every Christmas, we drive halfway down Italy to Abruzzo, where my in-laws are retired by the seaside. This puts us on the road with millions of other Italians going home for the holidays. Much of the flow is north to south: the many southern Italians who migrated to northern Italy decades ago to find work, but still have strong family ties in Sicily, Calabria, etc. So we are part of the grand “exodus,” carefully monitored by the media, with pre-analysis, traffic predictions, minute-by-minute developments, and (afterwards) death toll reports. In recent years we’ve driven on the 24th, when there’s the least traffic (except Christmas Day itself, which we may resort to one of these years). The Sunday before Christmas is also good, as no trucks are allowed on the highways.

There are trains, of course, but travelling by train with a lot of luggage is a pain, and trains have their own risks: The holiday season is when many public services choose to cause the greatest possible disruption, by going on strike. Trains don’t do it too often, but everyone else does. Public transit workers in Milan, Rome, and Genova were on strike for several days during the week before Christmas, causing huge traffic jams as everyone then had to drive to work. This probably put a considerable dent in holiday shopping; I suspect shop owners are not feeling very charitable about anyone’s right to strike at the moment.

Then another protest group got into the act. Italian milk producers are aggrieved because they keep getting fined for producing more milk than European Union quotas allow. For the last several years, they have brought attention to their plight (and won government support for discounts on their fines) by blocking major roads around Milan just before Christmas, particularly near Linate airport. There have been cases (though not this year) of holiday travelers having to walk the last five kilometers to the airport, carrying their own luggage.

(No, this has nothing to do with Parmalat, and I will refrain from any Parmalat jokes as I am sick of them already.)

Between Christmas and New Year’s there is a smaller but still significant movement of people, as many, having spent the obligatory “Natale con i tuoi” (Christmas with your family), now escape to go skiing or for more exotic destinations.

The big “counter-exodus,” of people returning to their working homes from wherever they’ve been, takes place around the Epiphany, January 6th. This year the air traffic controllers are adding to the fun by going on strike January 8th.

Conversation in a Bar

While having my morning coffee, I overheard a man talking to the waiter:

“I married two sisters. No, really. My first wife caught me with her sister. [Meditatively.] Who do you think is worse: the husband who sleeps with his sister-in-law, or the sister who sleeps with her sister’s husband?”

…there’s a novel in there somewhere…but probably not the sort I would enjoy writing!

When the Mom’s Away…

I began travelling for work when my daughter Rossella was in preschool. Sometimes I went for extended periods, and took her with me; she attended daycare in several different parts of the US, which was good for her English, and gave her exposure to American culture. For shorter trips, she stayed home in Milan with Enrico, who is a very good father and fully competent to take care of his daughter.

The mothers of Ross’ preschool classmates weren’t convinced of this, however.

“I’m off to California for two weeks,” I would announce.

Collective gasp:”Who will take care of Rossella?”

“She does have a father,” I would respond, amused.

One of Ross’ teachers told me a story to illustrate just how incompetent fathers could be: a father one morning had to get his daughter up and dressed for school. She arrived neat, clean, and nicely dressed in a blouse and skirt. But, to the teachers’ shock, lacking underwear.