Irish in Italy

 The below essay was written roughly two years ago, a time when my freedom to travel and move about unrestricted was taken, if not for granted, certainly with a lightness of attitude quite enviable now.

 I, like many, long to return to countries that I fell in love with and now feel very far from. The opportunity will come again but for now I shall visit them vicariously and nostalgically through passionately and mostly naively written essays. I am not nor do I pretend to be an expert on Italian culture, we shall leave that to the capable hands of the Italians. Instead this essay features my observations and should probably be taken with a pinch of salt, or, in the spirit of things, a large glass of vino rosso!

The country that gave us Commedia Dell’Arte, Opera, Olive oil and Wine; synonymous with the words ‘passion’ and ‘love’ yet simultaneously infamous for disorganization and chauvinism. Italy puzzles and enthralls many, including me. A lucky opportunity to travel around the country with a theatre company for 6 months and to call it work gave me a taste for both their wine and their lifestyle. After this contract, I then went on to work as an English teacher in summer camps for several weeks, gifting me the opportunity to live with Italian host families, the ‘inside scoop’ on la famiglia. Through these jobs I successfully managed to visit nearly every region of Italy, including the islands of Sicilia and Ischia.

An alien in more ways than one!

This adventure taught me everything and nothing, first and foremost that fortunately Italy seems to be a country that no rule can be applied to easily and embodies paradoxes at every turn.

 

Children:

The term ‘mammoni’ is an Italian word which roughly translates to ‘mummy’s boy’ and is used often to describe Italian males. It is a word which manages to encompass two categories: men that still live at home in their 30’s and young spoilt boys doted upon by their mothers. The idea of spoilt Italian children with a lack of independence can easily be identified. The words ‘thank you’ or ‘grazie’ do not always come so easily to these children’s lips and, all too often, the simpler option of turning to an adult for help with the easiest task will be employed. The word ‘competition’ on the other hand seems to light a spark within the child’s head. All previous tantrums or thoughts of mother are left far behind. Competitiveness is inbuilt for girls and boys alike, whom in the midst of a fraught relay have no problem showing their discontent for little Lorenzo’s mistake by gifting a hard thump on the arm or a loud and passionate expression of ‘stupido’ or ‘dai!’. Blunders are not tolerated easily, especially when points are to be won. The heat of the moment is everything in Italy however as shortly afterwards, all is forgotten: Nutella sticks are shared happily and discussions of their beloved PlayStation game ‘fortnite’ are pursued. Poor Lorenzo is back in the good books. This rule, it seemed, could just as easily be applied and observed on the autostrada as in the playground.

Bearing Italian children’s apparent dependence and mollycoddling in mind is interesting when applied to the topic of ‘bed times’ which, to put simply, don’t exist. The little darlings will still be kicking a football around their town’s piazza at 11 pm and Nonna let alone Mama won’t bat an eyebrow but instead take another sip of spritz and turn to the friend sitting beside them. Is this due to a general lack of rules, adding to the theory of spoliation? Or perhaps a more romantic point of view that trust is valued more highly, and supervision not considered so necessary or even, beneficial. The result? Children run free, quite late into the night. As long as it doesn’t affect any school time competitions the next day, what harm…? When looking at England or Ireland, a child below the age of 11 would be tucked up before the hour of 9 pm, giving an exhausted mum and dad a bit of ‘grown up time’.

This notion of ‘grown up time’ is interesting when considering a theory put forward by Sociologist/historian Philippe Aries. Aries’ research and interest concerned the concept of ‘childhood’, specifically how and when it became recognized as a distinct phase of human existence. He posits that in medieval society there was a less separated co-existence between children and adults, the child was essentially a ‘mini-adult’. When thinking about the confusing nature of parenting styles and childhood in Italy, Aries thoughts often spring to mind. While the concept of ‘childhood’ is still very much present in the overly affectionate, attention giving, child centered culture of Italy; the idea that it exists as wholly separated from adulthood does not. With an economic system that does not encourage youths to move away from home and the resulting strength of familial bonds and inertia; the child-adult, adult-child becomes almost one of the same. What would be the need for an early bedtime then in these circumstances when the child and the adult will exist together for a long time, most likely in the same house. Why start early with rules that will become impossible to keep?!

 

Gender:

When discussing Italian children and the term ‘mammoni’, it is hard not to escape the undeniably close relationship to that of gender relations. Our starting point again is the family, although cherished and celebrated, children in Italy and parents with children are not given any substantial child-benefits. This economic system discourages families to have children and, for the ones that do, forces one parent to stay at home in order to combat an expensive outward pay for childcare. Surprise surprise, this parent would generally be the mother. While staying with a family in the South I was shocked when faced with the reality of a mother who worked during the week but also took charge of all household duties and childcare in the home. Preparing, cooking and cleaning all the meals were her prerogative; children and much less dad were not expected to help. Needless to say however this is not just an Italian problem...

This image lies in stark contrast however to the often-matriarchal stereotype of an Italian mother and her adoring son. The classic image of an Italian male is one of good grooming, innate confidence and egotistical tendencies (combined of course with a fragile ego). He possesses passion, fine words but is not known for his trustworthiness. Perhaps the answer lies behind a furtive sense of Italian pride and nationalism, uncomfortably offset by an innate disenchantment for a post-Berlusconi era government characterized by confusion and worry. These features generally make uncomfortable bed fellows.

OR perhaps the answer is in none of the above but my own bias and over reliance on American teen movies (ahem ahem Lizzie McGuire) in guiding my opinion on the Italian male.

 

Environment:

A trip to Turin left me hopeful and happy after witnessing electric buses whizzing noiselessly around a buzzing and cultural city—home of the National Museum of Cinema. The streets were clean and the parks green. This environmental hub was nonetheless unusual in a country where I had become accustomed to single use plastic cups being the order of the day. Cities in the south held an almost unbearable and pervading stench due to bags and bags of non-recyclable rubbish left out on the streets and festering in the ruthless sun. Ironically it seems, the Italians are known for their cleanliness, their firm love of the bidet says it all. Perhaps their famous love for aesthetics and beauty stays firmly attached to the human figure, their homes and of course fashion but ceases to exist when applied to the natural world around them. Quite hilariously and much to my dismay, Italian consumers are in fact discouraged from reusing their own bags if purchasing fruits and vegetables due to ‘hygiene reasons’. Not all is lost however as due to the Italian's infamous love for their coffee as short, strong and black, this deeply entrenched tradition saves them from the plague of disposable coffee cups (found littered around our own country). Their coffee has always and shall always be the espresso. It is not for take-away consumption. The longer Americano favoured by their English-speaking counterparts is ‘dirty water’ and can’t be tolerated. A coffee a day keeps the rubbish away. Isn’t that what they say?

 Well, if not, this is what I say: 

Ciao-- for now-- Italia