I want to be Italian
I’ve decided that I should be Italian. Family history be damned. I feel Italian.
So what exactly does this mean? My interpretation is as follows:
- I am allowed to wave my arms around a lot when I talk
- It’s totally fine to cook enormous meals and invite loads of people over whenever I want
- I can drink things like grappa, Ouzo and Limoncello after meals
- I will not be ashamed of my childbearing hips
- I will ride a scooter
- I will grow/raise my own food
- I will let my curly dark hair grow wild
- I will turn every occasion into an opportunity for warmth, laughter and a little bit of drama
- I will probably wear a lot of swishy dresses and sandals
- I can eat gelato whenever I want
- I have carte blanche on being romantic and passionate and emotional
- I will be a total coffee snob
- I will always look after my family and friends above all else
Is there anything I am missing? Do I have to start watching soccer, wearing lots of makeup and carrying a Dolce and Gabbana bag? Should I get an Italian Greyhound and drive a Maserati?
I’m with you, it sounds like a good plan to me. No where’s my pasta!
I feel similarly, but my affinity is with Spain. Everything about the culture (minus the barbaric bullfighting, and austerity measures notwithstanding) stirs my soul. Bar-the-lona is one of my spiritual homes. I love the greasy, garlicky fiesta of tapas, washed down with some properly poured cava, and followed by a thick hot chocolate and churros.
I still want to learn flamenco dancing – and singing (although I haven’t seen too many female flamenco singers…). The sound and rhythm of la lengua Espanola sends my heart racing.
Sigh… now I’m off on another idyllic Iberian reverie…
Nonna G, you’d make a beautiful bella donna! Me, I want to be Japanese – feel so at ease over there, taking off my shoes, bowing, sitting on tatami mats, those quiet almost meditative gardens. Oh and those shoji paper screens. Maybe these are all residues from our past lives. Or genetic oddities that mean we fit in with cultures that aren’t our own. Must go before I daydream the day away… Sayonara, for now.
You are totally hilarious! Being italian is so much easier when it comes to relationships, love and dramas. I’m entitled to drink coffees also after 8 pm, I can have bread and Nutella for breakfast, I can scream at people overtaking me in the highway,I’m allowed to be moody and cranky, I can call my mum everyday and it doesn’t seem weird, I can complain about politics, I can take a day off when there is the world championship and I can hug, cuddle ad kiss complete strangers just because I can…I so love my background
I hear you girl! I always felt a strong pull, like I was meant to be there and would go back again and again even though I really should go somewhere else! Turns out my brother felt the same way- maybe it is the genetic influence of our grandfather whom we never met. We didn’t have any awareness of this background or cultural influence growing up. Ironically when my son was born I asked my mother whether she wanted to be called grandma or nanna and she said Í think I will be Nonna’! I said ‘What are you…Italian or something?’ well yes I suppose she is…allora!
Im in Italy house-sitting in the Puglia Region.. so l would also add to your list:
To be italian means:
Siesta time – DO NOT DISTURB ME DURING 1.00-5.00PM COS I AIN’T OPENING THE DOOR TO YOU!
If you’re a Man – then you must wear your Manbag!
You must be cynical about the Politicians at ALL TIMES!!!
You must have an opinion of the EU and the GERMANS desire to control and fix Italy’s financial problems!!
You must be Catholic on the face of it .. but that doesn’t mean you practice or believe in the Religion.
You call the Pope… El Prime Minister of Italy!!!!! Hence El Prime Minister has just retired and caused a big black hole in society!!
You must act like you’re working.. but really , you stand around watching everyone else working or standing around… it puts another meaning all together on ‘watching the world go by’ !!
you must discuss everything for hours without coming to any via conclusions, then its time for lunch, then siesta, then dinner …….. hence the job will still be there tomorrow and so you will pick up the discussion with the others at the same place you left it yesterday !!
You must throw your rubbish out of the car window and let it pile up by the side of the road until it becomes a health hazard, so eventually someone will clean it up
And lastly
You must be warm to visitors, welcoming them into your home and showing them what it means to be a true Italian!!
Hilarious! Can I join this club? Only thing I don’t like is drinking my coffee in tiny, tiny cups. I want my black coffee in a mug the size of my head! Great post.
Oh Nicole, I so hear you! Either that or 25 of those tiny, tiny cups during the day which is kind of labour intensive!
You are totally in the club 🙂