Dreaming of Figs
Today (Sunday) and tomorrow: time for Italy to vote. No one seems very eager about any of it, because it all generally sucks, but it looks like G is going to vote for Beppe Grillo, the comedian. Which is a vote of protest--an anti-vote.
Dinner at family friends' apartment on Saturday, where I consumed a satisfying amount of risotto and took part in a debate about Italian mothers. A book materialized in the midst of this: "Mamma mia!: La figura della mamma come deterrente nello sviluppo culturale, sociale ed economico dell'Italiana moderna" by Fabrizio Blini. The men were adamant that clinging, pampering mammas are the cause of Italy's stagnance; the mammas were shaking their heads solemnly. Later, one of our hosts who is a surgeon treated me to photos of some of his surgeries, including but not limited to a woman who stabbed herself in the chest with a very large knife, and an umbilical hernia. Cool stuff, man.
Walked home late, wine-calmed and content, with the snow still falling heavy, quiet, the church lit up, the sky bright white, all the people still sitting in the trattorias and the pizzerias, saying goodnight on the sidewalk--familiar and comforting images to me now, all.
Woke up this morning to a ton of snow and abundant sunshine (glory hallelujah) and the immediate knowledge that it was imperative to get outside asap. So V and I took the dog to the park. Just stunning, it was. The air was warm and so clear we could see the entire city spread out below and San Luca glowing orange above and snow-covered hills gleaming in all directions. Dark trees dropping snow-bombs from their laden branches. Snow was higher than my knees so my pants were soaked and I didn't even care, wasn't cold. Scads of dogs around, all in dog heaven, burrowing with fierce joy, but we got off the beaten path and had the world to ourselves, just us and the dazzling white and the sound of our breath. As we were trekking up and up the hillside, V turned to me and said with a wistful smile that in spring there are fig trees and cherry trees all over these hills, with fruit ripe and for the taking. Goddamn, Italy.
I had a dream in Italian during the first week I was here. Again. Me want.
Dinner at family friends' apartment on Saturday, where I consumed a satisfying amount of risotto and took part in a debate about Italian mothers. A book materialized in the midst of this: "Mamma mia!: La figura della mamma come deterrente nello sviluppo culturale, sociale ed economico dell'Italiana moderna" by Fabrizio Blini. The men were adamant that clinging, pampering mammas are the cause of Italy's stagnance; the mammas were shaking their heads solemnly. Later, one of our hosts who is a surgeon treated me to photos of some of his surgeries, including but not limited to a woman who stabbed herself in the chest with a very large knife, and an umbilical hernia. Cool stuff, man.
Walked home late, wine-calmed and content, with the snow still falling heavy, quiet, the church lit up, the sky bright white, all the people still sitting in the trattorias and the pizzerias, saying goodnight on the sidewalk--familiar and comforting images to me now, all.
Woke up this morning to a ton of snow and abundant sunshine (glory hallelujah) and the immediate knowledge that it was imperative to get outside asap. So V and I took the dog to the park. Just stunning, it was. The air was warm and so clear we could see the entire city spread out below and San Luca glowing orange above and snow-covered hills gleaming in all directions. Dark trees dropping snow-bombs from their laden branches. Snow was higher than my knees so my pants were soaked and I didn't even care, wasn't cold. Scads of dogs around, all in dog heaven, burrowing with fierce joy, but we got off the beaten path and had the world to ourselves, just us and the dazzling white and the sound of our breath. As we were trekking up and up the hillside, V turned to me and said with a wistful smile that in spring there are fig trees and cherry trees all over these hills, with fruit ripe and for the taking. Goddamn, Italy.
I had a dream in Italian during the first week I was here. Again. Me want.
Comments
Post a Comment