Rattle Those Pots

September 24, 2004

“Isn’t it extraordinary? I mean, Italians are so kind, so lovable…and yet at the same time so violent.”
– Helena Bonham Carter as Lucy Honeychurch
A Room with a View

A few nights ago, we saw from our bedroom window our first lovers’ quarrel in the street below. We heard a big racket at about 8 pm, and at first thought it was just some of the waiters in the piazza below messing around, maybe still mocking Vieri’s new haircut. When we finally looked out to see what the continuing commotion was, the waiters were there, all right, but just standing with their arms folded across their chests, watching — with great amusement — the scene unfolding down our street.

An apparently thwarted Italian fellow, I’d guess in his mid-30s, was hollering and hollering for close to an hour to his “only true love,” who was futilely waving him away from a window two floors up from the curb, a few doors down from us. Eventually he began ripping his clothes off in the street (I assume to express…great torment?).

We could only translate snippets here and there between his angst-ridden door poundings, including “my love, the woman is nothing!!!” and “do not do this, do not do this to me!!!” so we couldn’t figure out if he’d gone a’courtin’ another gal and gotten busted. Especially after he kept beating his chest, positively screaming, “I have nothing now!” and “I am sorry!” (“Mi dispiace!”) twenty times in a row.

After a few more minutes of unsuccessfully pleading, and with his gal still having none of it, he looked all around, out of breath and tripping over his discarded clothes, and apparently drew the conclusion that this would be the ideal moment to throw something. The only nearby thing to seize, though, other than several eavesdropping pigeons, was a bicycle—which he promptly picked up and (very clumsily) proceeded to throw around.

The amused audience of waiters started laughing out loud at this point, since by this time the lovelorn italiano was so worn out, he was pretty ineffectual at throwing the bike. He just kept looking like he was hurting himself, alternately tripping over the bike wheels and his torn clothing.

His gal must have said he could come up after a few more minutes of watching the spectacle below, because he just calmed right down, put his ripped clothes back on and stepped over the dented bike, and pushed open the door when the accepting buzzer let him inside. The funny part was that he must have seen all of the people in their windows watching for so long, and must have heard the waiters laughing right down the street, but he didn’t care one bit. He honestly didn’t even seem to notice the crowd. Ah, street scenes. Beats cable any day.

Random trivia and everyday happenings
• Sicily is the largest island of the Mediterranean. Sicilian cuisine is considered Italy’s most ancient. Gelato made its first appearance here.
• “Mafia” is only organized crime in Sicily, not throughout Italy. Each region in Italy has its own name for organized crime, and “Mafia” is only Sicilian.
• In Italy, “pasta” refers to pastry as well as pasta as we know it. Both are made from dough of some sort, so they’re lumped together. (Plural is “paste.”) So when Thom and I order our caffeine meds at the bar each morning, we order “due cappuccini e due paste.” Go figure.

My coffee binges continue unabated; I’m amazed I’m sleeping at all. I haven’t cut myself in class yet (knock on wood), but I did get a steam burn on Wednesday. Ouch!

Corri la Vita
Thom is running in a race, the Corri la Vita, this Sunday. It goes throughout Florence, and we’re told is a great way to see the sights. I myself prefer strolling from coffee bar to enoteca and back to coffee bar to see the sights as my cardio (to each his own). My job on Race Day is to cheer. I can swing that. Even if I have to get up early on a Sunday to do it…especially since it gives me time to shop while Thom runs up steep paths to the hill towns.

Armani, we learned, sponsors the race each year, and runners have to go to Armani to pick up their registration, tags, and T-shirts (made by Armani, which for some reason, we thought was kind of funny, a la “I went to Armani and all I got was this lousy T-shirt”). Anyway, on the way home from school yesterday, we stopped by to pick up Thom’s things for the race … and soon learned that people apparently aren’t supposed to “stop by” Armani.

We were instantly accosted by a very spiffy Italian fellow just absolutely dressed to the nines, who politely asked if he could help us — but basically blocked the inside entrance (his maneuvers may have been evenly due to Thom’s flip-flops and my ponytail, we speculated).

Anyway, when we finally managed to say what we needed in Italian, our velvet-voiced Accoster-Host replied, “Eh, si, si. Emporio Armani. Non e qui.” (We’d forgotten that Emporio Armani, the “lower-ticket” Armani store — all things being relative — was around the corner on the next piazza, and we’d mistakenly stopped in Armani, the “primo” spot. Live and learn.) It was funny—we felt like we’d just gotten busted trying to sneak into a private club sans invitation, and sort of skulked away around the corner, smacking flip-flops, swinging ponytail and all.

Divertimento Escursione (Fun Excursions)
We had a fun adventure last night when we went to La Traviata in one of the older opera houses. Our tickets were absurdly discounted and we were happy enough to go, thinking they’d be student-type seats (read: nosebleed tier, behind a large marble column). Turns out, we had a few nice boxes, and ours was three back from the stage. It was really an incredible experience; the music and costumes and sets – and history of the opera house – were so colorful and beautiful.

One entertaining little story: at one point, a character threw the hat from his head. He threw it a little too far, though, and it bopped one of the French Horn players in the orchestra pit right smack on the side of the head. It was actually pretty funny, since he didn’t see it coming, but what made it even funnier was that ten minutes later, the horn player was still mock-clutching his head, and the other musicians on his row were still just laughing away about it, right smack in the middle of one of the acts. A definite chuckler.

Tomorrow, we have another “field trip” to Siena and San Gimignano, so we’re really looking forward to that. And we’ve signed up for a trip out to Parma in early October, which should be an adventure. So should getting up at 3:00 am that morning to reach the school for the 4:30 am meeting time.

That’s about it for now, have to run. A gal needs her coffee, after all.

Arrivederci tutti,

Jen