Saturday, November 23, 2024

Bergamo Street Sign Language Lesson XLVIII

previous lesson | this lesson


There are always new words and phrases to stop us in our tracks and say woah, both at home and out and about. Here we go with the 38th installment of our everyday language lesson.
 

 01 sgrassatore universale

Sgrassatore universale – FA BRILLARE SENZA ALONI
"Universal degreaser – shines without streaks"

Sgrassatore does mean degreaser, but in English this is more specialized term for car-related or industrial uses. Seems like we would say “cleaner for grease and dirt”. In Italian, sgrassatore is commonly used. Alone means halo but in this sense here it means not leaving streaks. This can be confirmed by going to the Chanteclair site for this product, which says “streak-free shine”.

When we first saw the word aloni, we thought it was a chemical. Duh, put an H on it to get something close to “halo”. This product also functions upside down: funziona sottosopra.


02 non viaggiare scoperto

NON VIAGGAIRE SCOPERTO!
"Don’t travel exposed (Don’t travel without a ticket)"

This is a cute way to remind people to buy bus tickets and don't cheat. There are rarely any checks on buses, at least on the buses we travel on. We pay with the ATB app.



03 - abbattimosche

Abbattimosche – manico in ferro
"Fly-swatter – metal handle"

In a previous installment, we mentioned other words for fly swatter like acchiappamosche and schiacciamosche. See Bergamo Street Sign Language Lesson XLVI . No sooner had we written that then we saw the word abbattimosche from abbattere – to knock down, demolish and mosca/mosche - fly. Even if it is written as iron (ferro) for the handle (manico), often the words is confused with being metal (of any sort). We doubt they would use iron for this handle.



04 Abbecedario 01 04 Abbecedario 02 

ABBECEDARIO
"Alphabet primer"

Boy we felt stupid when we saw this and thought it was a mishmash of letters that was made up. Then we realized, damn, it’s a word. We saw the word in the kid's area of a new museum in Bergamo: Mura di Bergamo in the Porta Sant’Agostino gate to the city.


05 la stazione si rinnova

LA STAZIONE SI RINNOVA
"The station is under renovation"

The Bergamo train station is under major renovation. This sign indicates this, but the translation given below is not great: “the station is renewing”. It suggests the station is renewing itself. A better translation is “the station is under renovation” or “the station is being renovated”.


06 eccetto frontisti

eccetto frontisti
"Except property owners"

We were walking back to the hospital – yes, it’s easy to walk to the hospital in Bergamo – and saw this sign on Via Borgo Canale. The street starts out as a normal street running north from Bergamo toward the upper city. Most of the main traffic turns off on Via Costituzione and Borgo Canale street continues significantly narrowed and cobblestoned. This sign is at that point. To the best of our ability frontisti means anyone who has property or a business on this road can travel on it. 


07 caccia con l'arco al cinghiale

ZONA ESCLUSIVA DI CACCIA CON L’ARCO AL CINGHIALE
"Exclusive Wild Boar Bow Hunting Area"

At first, when we saw this sign on a walk to Alzano Lombardo, we wondered if we should be worried about being hit with an arrow. After that though, we started wondering about the translation. It seems the best translation is a sequence of nouns “wild board”, “bow hunting”, and “area”. These noun phrases or compound nouns can seem like a mouthful but are common in English.


08 inizio cantiere 

inizio cantiere – ATTENIZONE VIABILITA` MODIFICATA
"Start of construction – Watch out for modified access" (very literal translation)
"Start of construction – Attention: traffic pattern changed" (flows better)

First, we were patting ourselves on the back for finding a misspelling in a sign. ATTENIZONE should be ATTENZIONE. Okay, not a big deal, but it means our language skills are at least a step above on-life-support. 

 But how to translate the sign? We gave two options above.

Wednesday, November 20, 2024

Why do we travel?

Vanity | Relaxation | Exploration | Traveling Companions | Takeaways


Why do we travel? What are we looking for when we travel? What do we take away from a place after visiting it? What do we leave there, physical or otherwise? These questions bounced around in my head during a trip with a friend to Kraków and Prague. 

Our dear friend preferred to stay in the hotel while we were eager to get out to explore. While we explored the fascinating "Wieliczka" Salt Mine outside of Kraków, he stayed in bed. Later, he admitted that vacation for him was relaxing and talking. We walked too much for him and spent too much time in museums. He sketched out his prefect vacation as visiting a quaint town (with us), buying a few provisions from the market and going home to cook them and relaxing. Unfortunately, that was not the trip we were on together. How did we even end up on this trip together I wondered.

I realized that my reasons for travel are probably different from our friend. Okay, but what are my reasons exactly? Why do I travel? 

What follows are thoughts on why I travel. I can say with reasonable certainty that in 30 years of travel, my motivation falls into three broad categories: vanity, relaxation, and exploration.


Vanity

When I started traveling in earnest in the mid 1990s (my late twenties and early thirties), it was for primarily for two reasons: vanity and relaxation.  Vanity travel is to say I went somewhere and saw it; checklist travel. Sometimes these trips were inspired because people I respected said I should see a place. I was motived by the vague idea that educated, well-rounded people traveled and I wanted to be part of that crowd. The must-see places that loom large in an western upbringing, like Italy and France, were obvious candidates when it was time to choose where to travel. 

I'm not proud of vanity travel, but it exists to various degrees in my travel habits even today and it can be a powerful motivator to get yourself in shape, learn a language, or get your finances in order. I also admit there is some satisfaction in shocking friends and family with travel destinations, even if they are pretty tame by other travelers' standards. 

My need to shock likely comes from my childhood. Growing up, my family rarely went on vacation, and when we did, it was less than 100 miles away, and to decidedly non-exotic places. There were no destinations I could write a good essay about when the school year started and I would inevitably be asked to explain what I did that summer. I thought the reason my family didn't travel was money related: we were of modest means with more than a few mouths to feed so traveling was not in the cards for us. Later in life, as I saw examples of large families with limited means traveling, I began to realize that the problem was one of desire. My parents didn't want to travel - at least not with us kids. Therefore, when I was on my own and in charge of my own travel decisions, it felt like I was breaking at taboo to get on a plane and travel a great distance. And so was born the urge to select exotic locations (to me that is…) just because it was different than what I knew as a child. 

On a trip in Puglia, we were in Martina Franca eating lunch and the song Just an Illusion came on the radio. The song transported me back 33 years on my high school French club trip to France in 1983. I heard the song while we, a group of naïve high school seniors, a couple of parent chaperones, and one overworked French teacher schlepped around Paris. I was hooked on first listen. The song became part of the soundtrack to my first time out the country, first time in Europe, first major travel on my own (sort of). No matter that the musical group was British and it was a big European hit in many countries at the time, as I would find out much later. I thought it was French and that's all that mattered. I managed to find and buy the cassette on that class trip -- along with a much beloved blue and green-striped Yves St. Laurent shirt. I felt worldly, I had seen Paris! This falls under vanity travel. 

The cassette outlasted the shirt, and I only recently did a final purge of cassettes and gave one last look at the three post-disco-warriors on bright red background. I can't remember much about what we did and saw back in 1983 in France, but I sure remember that song and the shirt. 

Thankfully, today the vanity motive to travel is not a large driving factor for most of my travels. Or perhaps I am deceiving myself?


Relaxation


When I started my life as a working adult, besides vanity, travel was largely for relaxation - a counterpoint to work. It was what I was supposed to do with the precious few days my job offered me each year. Companies call it "vacation time", not exploration time or learning time. And like many good employees, I tried to interpret it literally. I took vacation and came back to work relaxed, or so I hoped. On average, I estimate I spent about 2-3 weeks a year on vacation during my working years.

I remember the days of work leading up to vacation and those of when I came back. I worked extra hard to get everything done before leaving. I stressed over projects that were launching while I would be away; I felt like my absence was letting down my managers and team. Then, when I got back, it was days of playing catch-up. Maybe it was just my character, but I'm guessing most people have felt at least a little of the before and after effect of a vacation: paying the price for taking the vacation. (And who hasn't fought the urge to take their work with them on vacation or stay in contact just to lessen the pain when getting back?) Is that relaxation?

Recently, I came in possession of my grandparents' travel diaries from their two trips to Italy in the 1970s. As I read the diary of their first trip, 25 days in 1973, I was struck by their nonstop, frenetic trip north to south, from Zurich to Palermo. A night here, an afternoon there. A few days with relatives in Rome and Ceprano. A day in Capri. A night in Bergamo, Orvieto, and Reggia di Caserta. A night in Naples. A few days with relatives in Palermo and then back home. It made me remember my urge to pack as much in as possible during my time off from work, at the expense of seeing anything in a more nuanced way, let alone relaxing in a spot for more than one day. 

My grandmother was the main income source for her family and I imagine that time off from work was hard to come by. She had to mind the time and be back to work at Waring, shipping blenders: "This is Julia in traffic" was how she answered the phone at work. 

I wonder what the answer would be if I could go back in time and ask my grandparents how much time they would spend if time or money wasn't an issue.

To be honest, there isn't a trip (travel in general) that I think back to and say "that was the most relaxing time I've ever had." Travel is always associated in my mind with descriptions like: an enjoyable trip, a trip we ate well on, a trip we learned a lot about XYZ, a trip where we clocked a lot of miles, a hectic trip, a trip I couldn't wait to come home from, etc. Why relaxation isn't part of my vocabulary for describing trips could be a defect in me. Does it mean that I don't know how to relax? Perhaps. In defense, I would counter - somewhat weakly - that my relaxation (really closer to satisfaction) is knowing that I planned, enjoyed, and returned from a trip. 


Exploration


Over time, my reason to travel has become less vanity and relaxation and more exploration. I guess exploration as a motive was always there, just masked by vanity and relaxation motives, at least initially. Exploration means exploring other places, cultures, and ultimately yourself. Only when we see something different from us or our everyday world can we hope to see clearly what we are. Experiencing the other helps define us and change us for the better. 

In a the article: How a Bit of Awe Can Improve Your Health - The New York Times (nytimes.com) - the quote by Dacher Keltner, a psychologist at the University of California, Berkeley, stood out for us.

 “Awe is the feeling of being in the presence of something vast that transcends your understanding of the world."

The exploration motive for travel makes more sense when put in the context of looking for awe. Now, that's a bit heady but hey, it's my travel reason.

A key event when exploration became a primary reason for us to travel is when we made the commitment to take our first sabbatical of 2007 - 2008. We quit work, disrupted our comfortable, if not slightly boring and ironically stressful, lives to take a bit of risk.  At that moment, we wanted to explore something more than what was in front of us. The standard 2-4 weeks of vacation on our jobs were not enough. Even the sabbatical leave of absence programs available to us were limited -- at just a few months -- or inaccessible, being typically only for very long term employees or executives.

The first sabbatical succeeded wildly, so much so that not long after returning a plan for a second sabbatical was in the works. Sabbatical II took place from 2015 - 2017 and I can say that we would not have changed a thing. For more information, see Sabbatical Lessons: Thoughts and Stories from our Italian Sabbaticals.

On a trip we took to Puglia in 2016, we were based for 4 nights in Lecce and took a day trip to Otranto. In the Castello Aragonese di Otranto, we saw the exhibition "Steve McCurry Icons".  McCurry is the photographer who took the famous 1984 photo Afghan Girl. The exhibition in Otranto was a selection of his photos and commentary  about them. As I hogged an overworked air-conditioning unit trying to cool off, I thought: now there's someone who's been around. The thing that stood out in the exhibition explanations is how many times McCurry said he would go back to the same spot to get just the right photo. What a great way to see something. Keep visiting a place at different times, for different outcomes. Our nod to this idea is our informal travel rule of no less than 3 nights in a place, if we can. (And more if we can.) Our goal is to return to the same café at least twice if not more, loiter in the main piazza at different times of the day, and start to know the shortcuts and back alleys of a place. And always: talk to people. Ask questions. Listen.

It takes time and patience to travel this way, a luxury that many may not have like my grandmother during her 1970s Italy trips. I wonder what it might have been like if my grandmother had to travel with Steve McCurry.

Traveling to a place may satisfy your curiosity of the place. Sometimes it might even diminish your curiosity, or, in the best case, stoke your curiosity more. Iceland was like that for us. We visited once because we were fascinated with its smallness, remoteness, and position straddling the Eurasian and North American tectonic plates. Off we went one November, and despite the less than 6 hours of light daylight we had, we were hooked and immediately thought about a second visit. During our first visit we planned a second visit a few summers later when there would be 20+ hours of daylight. During the second visit we drove the ring road around the island and worked in a few spectacular hikes. A third and more in depth visit is in our future. 


Traveling companions


Almost all my travel has been in the context of traveling in a couple (significant other), which is my preferred way to travel. I've noticed that the travel-dynamic changes significantly when a friend or another couple is added. Another couple is easier than a single friend for a variety of reasons, not least that breaking into pairs (however the arrangement) is easier and natural.

When traveling, everyday habits that you might not notice from a loved one or friend can become more pronounced and intolerable, especially in close quarters. I have developed traveling habits and rituals for sure. (Of course, my habits are not the problem; it's the habits of traveling companions which are the problem!) We've seen: the morning constitutionals, the superstitious rituals, the dos and the don'ts. Let's not forget the pills, ointments, and prophylactics, and the increasingly inward focus on body and self that seems to come out in force when traveling. 

Then there are the traveling companions (excluding significant others) who give you a complement and subtle insult at the same time, continually during the trip. Traveling companions who talk about their previous trip or their next trip but never about what's in front of them in the moment: the trip they are on with you. Also maddening: long faces, no smiles, dull surprise at the marvelous, and constant talk about home matters and work.

Some memorable travel companion episodes that come to mind:

  • A friend worried about his bowel movements would update us every 10 minutes on the state of his system. 
  • A friend who insisted on touching everything in a museum we were visiting together, knowing she wasn't supposed to. Even our glares didn't help.
  • A friend who could not eat bread without wine and interpreted bread on the table without wine as uncivilized. She would huff and puff until wine showed up.
  • A friend who was perfectly able to but didn't want to climb a belltower in Prague. On our way up we saw folks 30 years his elder making the climb. From the top of the tower, we saw him slumped in a bench in the piazza below.
  • A friend who washed clothes in the hotel all day rather than going out to see the sights.
  • A friend visiting us in Bergamo who rarely left the hotel room.
  • A friend visiting us in Bergamo who talked glowingly about the days before arriving in Bergamo so much that we felt like we were failing to provide a good time.
  • Friends with dietary restrictions so complex that each meal is like negotiating a mind field. Said friends, no matter what they choose seem to inevitably have a "problem" the next day.
  • Friends who could not leave the hotel until their morning constitutional with Coca-Cola and yoga was complete, which meant around noon. The best part of the day is over.
  • Friends arguing in a car, in the front seat. Then, turning to us in the back seat and they asked us to take sides.
  • A friend who decided to use our Bergamo house as a combination B&B, tech service, travel agency, and spa. Trying to save money, the friend shifted his costs to us. 
  • A friend who visited us in Bergamo but expressed desire about seeing this or that but who we could hardly get moving for a walk around the city. We were confused about what we could or should do.
  • A friend who visited us with COVID (staying outside our house) but spending time with us and then expressing worry for visiting friends in other cities because he didn't want to expose them to the virus. And, us? Later said friend stayed in our house and bellowed and coughed for days on end.
  • See Visitors to Bergamo - The Things We Wish They Would Notice


I know people would think of me as inflexible as a traveler; I'm a stickler for exact timing and scheduling. My partner is much more open to allowing serendipity to enter into travel and less planning. Slowly, I have learned to accept this as well. We have arrived at the point that planning is great but we don't get fixated on the plan. The plan gives options not constraints. 

Traveling with a significant other is one thing. We've learned to iron out our traveling differences. But, traveling with friends is increasingly more difficult. I find I am less willing to spend time with those that don't share my travel ethos or style. Alarmingly, we are getting more requests from friends to travel together. I suppose I should look at this as an opportunity for personal betterment.


Takeaways

I have to write these words for myself in order to internalize these hard-earned lessons. Hopefully, they may help you:

Traveling with people requires grace. 
  • You can't practice grace enough, so why not during travel? 
  • As Maya Angelou said: “I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” 
  • Never berate visitors or travelling companions for not knowing something that seems obvious. When people are travelling they are often discombobulated.
  • Laugh. A lot.

Set limits and expectations.
  • When people are visiting you and even more so when said people are staying with you. Be honest and conservative (ruthless?) with you need for own space and time. 
  • Limits and expectations also apply when traveling with people. You might need a few hours to break away from the person or group.

Being someone else's travel agent is tricky. 
  • Sure, help organizing logistics especially in country you might know better is helpful. But do not try to interpret their expectations (unless you know them well) or interpret their whims/dreams/half-baked desires. It will lead to frustration.
  • If helping friends, give them the tools to do it themselves. Don't be the bottleneck in their travel such that they are dependent on you.

Don't try to control (too much) what visitors or traveling companions do and see, and ultimately what they "should" enjoy.
  • Don't expect that if someone comes to visit you that they'll see your location (town, city, or wherever) as you see it. The may walk away with very different impression. And that's okay. They may be fascinated (or disgusted) with aspects you don't notice. They may talk about aspects that make a huge impact on them but seem banal. All okay. Use these as a point of departure for discussions. 
  • The important thing is that your visitor or travelling companion is happy. 
  • Why they are visiting you or traveling with you might help understand what to do/show with them. However, a large part of your visitors or travelling companions happiness is out of your control.

Look for awe.
  • Even in the smallest of things and the dreariest times of travel.
  • Look for the awe through the eyes of your visitors or travelling companions to help understand their point of view. 
  • Cultivate a little more "freudenfreude" - joy derived from others' success, and in the context of travel, others' travel discoveries or marvels no matter how significant or insignificant they may seem to you.
  • Look for something beyond your own thinking and understanding.

Tuesday, November 19, 2024

A Walk to Alzano Lombardo for Lunch – Burro and No-News

Oak Tree on Colle di Ranica A horse and a pond A farm above Ranica BG
Left: Oak trees on Colle di Ranica, Bergamo.
Center:  A horse and a pond.
Right:  A farm above Ranica, Bergamo.

We needed to get out and we wanted to eat somewhere interesting. So, we came up with the idea to go have lunch at Burro (Sardinian restaurant) in Alzano Lombardo. To arrive there, we walked from Bergamo passing through Maresana (trail 533), Colle di Ranica, Croce del Boscone (710m), and then finally dropping down into Alzano. We took the tram back to Bergamo. (You can just as well take the tram both ways.)

Duration: 2.25 hours - one way walking
Elevation: 505 m
Length: 11.4 km - one way going
Location: Italy, Lombardy, Alzano Lombardo

Burro

We had a memorable dinner at Burro back in April and decided to try it again for lunch. And we weren’t disappointed. We did the 3-choice lunch menu paired with a nice French apple cider, Cidrerie du Leguer.

Burro is located about 10 minutes slightly uphill from the Alzano Lombardo tram stop. The Linea T1 tram runs between Bergamo and Albino, with two stops for Alzano.

We highly recommend a visit. Okay, so that’s the Burro part of this post. 

SOUPE À L'OIGNON, STILTON, PASTA SFOGLIA Al SEMI DI SESAMO FREGOLA, SPADA ALLA MARINARA E COZZE CONTROFILETTO DI MANZO E PURE DI PATATE
Examples of dishes at Burro (Sardinian restaurant) in Alzano Lombardo. Left: Soupe à l'oignon, stilton, pasta sfoglia al semi di sesamo. Center: Fregola, spada alla marinara e cozze. Right: Controfiletto di manzo e pure di patate.   

No-News


Part of the motivation to do this hike was to get out of the house and away from the news. The doom and gloom headlines - at least in the media we are consuming – are tiring. If we see another headline that includes the word “shocking” in response to a certain orange-headed person’s action, we are going to lose it. It would truly be shocking if people were ready for the shit coming their way and had a response ready.

We calculated that we wasted hundreds of hours consuming news (much of it, election related) over the last year. What do we have to show for it? Did the constant daily check-in of the horse race help us? We don’t think so. Yes, we need to be informed but perhaps in a different way.

Partisan Nation - Paul Pierson, Eric Schickler Nexus - Yuval Noah Harari Why Information Grows - César A. Hidalgo
Three book covers: Partisan Nation, Nexus, and Why Information Grows.

In the post-election weeks, we funneled much of our previous news-consumption (attention) to books. Here are a few that have helped us understand what has happened and more importantly have kept us from mindlessly consuming news. 

Partisan Nation: The Dangerous New Logic of American Politics in a Nationalized Era (2024) by Paul Pierson, Eric Schickler.
  • If you want a good understanding of polarization in the US and a historical context, this is the book for you.
  • There are lots of little gems in this book like this “A common denominator across the recent changes in state parties, interest groups, and the press is that they have fostered a decline in credible, alternative cue givers that in the past created pathways for voters to embrace policies or issues that cut across existing partisan lines.

Nexus: A Brief History of Information Networks from the Stone Age to AI (2024) by Yuval Noah Harari.
  • Harari explores how information networks have shaped human societies from the Stone Age to the present. T he book discusses how different societies and political systems have used information to achieve their goals, for both good and ill.
  • To this last point, Harari talks about information flow in democratic, autocratic, and totalitarian systems.  Thinking about our current polarization these lines stood out for me: "Democratic [information] networks assume that everyone is fallible, and that includes even the winners of elections and the majority of voters." And "Simplicity is a characteristic of dictatorial information networks in which the center dictates everything and everybody silently obeys."

Why Information Grows: The Evolution of Order from Atoms to Economies (2015) by César A. Hidalgo.
 Remember: attention is not a infinite so don't waste yours.

Tracks for this hike Croce del Boscone (710m) - Ranica, BG A mural in Alzano Lombardo, Bergamo.
Left: The tracks for this hike.
Center: Sign at Croce di Boscone.
Right: Descending into Alzano Lombardo.
  

















Sunday, October 6, 2024

Bergamo Street Sign Language Lesson XLVII - Birthday Party Invitation


In this Bergamo Street Sign Language Lesson (TM) we analyze how to say you will or will not come to a birthday party.

We were on a group WhatsApp chat inviting many people to a birthday party. What stood out for me were the ways to say that you are or are not coming. Also, ways to say thank you. (For more on that, see Thanks for All the Fish: How to Say Thank You in Italian With the Prepositions di, per, or a.)

An aside:
We just finished reading the book Seizing the Enigma: The Race to Break the German U-Boat Codes, 1939–1943 (2011) by David Khan. In that book, you learn about the incredible effort to unlock the German naval codes to stop the disastrous sinking of Allied ships in the North Atlantic. (We were surprised how close German U-boats came to points on the east coast, blowing up ships within the glow of major USA cities!) 
In a very simplistic way, we feel like those involved in codebreaking at Bletchley Park (Britain) or later at the US Signal intelligence Service at Arlington Hall, Virginia. We look at these birthday greetings like codes to crack because and understand because we never feel secure of what we are hearing or saying. 😘

With no further ado:

I/we are coming:

Ciao, mi dispiace ma non riusciamo😞
Io assente
Ciao Xxxx, mi spiace ma siamo già impegnati 😢 Grazie comunque per l’invito 😘
Ciao Xxxx, purtroppo abbiamo già un impegno. Grazie lo stesso e buoni festeggiamenti!! 🥳🍾🍸
Ciao Miss Xxxx, anche non ci saremo ma ti facciamo tanti cari auguri 🥳
Cara Xxxx purtroppo non riusciremo a esserci sabato. Grazie dell’invito e buoni festeggiamenti 😘
Sono via...
Ciao principessa noi non ci siamo mandiamo tantissimi auguri 🥰🥂

I’m/we are coming:

Ci sono, ci siamo
Io presente
Presenti
Anche noi
Yuppi! Come poter mancare!
Noi presente 🙋🏽‍♀️🎉




An AI-birthday cake - Microsoft Designer An Enigma-like machine a la Microsoft Designer
Right: An AI-birthday cake and a depiction of my mind (a la Enigma machine) decoding the Italian language.



Tuesday, October 1, 2024

Bergamo Street Sign Language Lesson XLVI


Our 46th edition of Street Sign Language Lesson. All these signs were seen in and around Bergamo.

Trasloco in corso
TRASLOCO IN CORSO – ABBIATE PIETA’
“Moving in progress, show mercy”

Having moved recently, we completely understand the sentiment in this sign. Who likes moving? Abbiate is the plural “you” imperative of the verb avere - to have.


Bastone da passeggio
BASTONE DA PASSEGGIO. HO IL PIEDE BASCULANTE.
“Walking cane. I have an articulating base.”

This ad, seen in a farmacia on via Tasso, has the walking cane talking to us telling us what it can do and its features. Sto in piedi da solo – “I stand up by myself”. Sono regolabile – “I am adjustable”.

The use of basculante - “tilting” threw us off. We confess we did a Google search on this one and then figured out that the foot (piede) of the cane articulates and tilts in different directions.


Acchiappa gli sconti Acchiappa gli sconti
ACCHIAPPA GLI SCONTI. SCANSIONA E COLLEZIONA I QR CODE
“Catch the discounts. Scan and collect the QR codes.”

Acchiappare - “grab or snatch” is a word that never rolls off our tongue. It’s used in compound nouns like dreamcatcher or acchiappasogni, fly swatter or acchiappamosche (or schiacciamosche which we like better!). And Gli Acchiappagiochi - “the game catchers” is a cartoon on RAI.

The verb chiappare means the same as acchiappare but is less frequently used and is more colloquial. The prefix “ac” means “to” or “towards” and intensifies the meaning of a verb it is used with, making it more emphatic. To add to our confusion, chiappa means “butt cheek”. Acchiappachiappa means butt catcher?


Preghiamo chi passa
ATTENZIONE: PREGHIAMO CHI PASSA, PER FAVORE, DI USARE UN TONO DI VOCE RISPETTOSO DEL RIPOSO ALTRUI!
“Attention: We kindly ask those passing by to lower their voice to not disturb the sleep of others!”

This sign was seen on a posh residence on Via Valverde. I wonder how many people see the sign and lower their voices? After all these years, we still see the verb pregare (preghiamo – first person plural) and think “praying to people who pass by”? That is true in a religious sense, but also means to ask (chiedere - to ask) in a courteous way. You might see this kind of request done less directly (and more impersonally) using the impersonal form si prega as shown elsewhere in this post.


NonCiCasco
#NonCiCasco – CAMPAGNA PER LA PREVENZIONE DELLE CADUTE DALL’ALTO.
“I’m not falling for it – campaign for the prevention from falls from height”

We admit, this was a bit awkward to translate exactly. “Fall from height” seems to be used in the USA, for example, see this NIH report with the abbreviation FFH. Okay, we'll go with that but, it doesn’t sound good to our ears. In Italian, the phrase caduta dall’alta (plural cadute dell’alto) is used.

The sign shown here was attached to scaffolding on Via Pignolo. There is a campaign to raise awareness about work site injuries due to falls. The hashtag pulled apart becomes (io) non ci casco, which means “I’m not falling for it” used when you don’t believe something, but in this case falling means literally from heights. Clever. Cascare means "to fall, to fall down". Cascarci means "to fall into a trap".

While we are talking about falls, let’s mention the interesting Marina Abramović show at gres Art 671 called “between breath and fire” (14.09.24 - 16.02.25). The show includes the film “Seven Deaths”, of which one death is “The Jump” - speaking of fall from height. Arbamović falls in slow motion from a skyscraper in a fictious city. #LeiCiCasca?


La catechesi dei ragazzi
La catechesi dei ragazzi anche quest’anno sarà il mercoledì alle ore 16:45 e il venerdì alle ore 15:00
“Children’s catechism this year will be Wednesdays at 4:45pm and Fridays at 3:00pm.”

La catechesi – means “catechism”. Don’t know what that means? It’s those strange afterschool teachings about the principles of Christian religion that one of us had to go to during 7th and 8th grade.

We saw this sign on the duomo in Bergamo. For the record, my lessons were on Wednesdays. I guess some things never change.


Se non disdici paghi lo stesso
Se non disdici, paghi lo stesso
“If you don’t cancel, you pay all the same”

The healthcare system in Italy is known as the Servizio Sanitario Nazionale (SSN). It is a national, universal healthcare system that provides residents with free or low-cost healthcare services. This includes access to general practitioners, treatment at public hospitals, subsidized medicines, lab services, ambulance services, and certain specialist care.

One thing that can be frustrating in the Italian system is waiting times for appointments. Waiting time means the number of days that elapse between the date of booking and the date of the actual health service. The date that is provided to citizens is the first date available to carry out the requested service. Think skin check or colonoscopy as examples of services.

We learned from a retired doctor in Bergamo that booked appointments that are no-shows (up to 20% at one point) is a significant inefficiency in the system and contributes to longer waiting times. In the past, you could book an appointment and not show up. The sign shown in the photo is warning people that now you will pay if you don’t show up. This is thanks to a new law “Decreto Legge del 07/06/2024, n. 73”.

Disdire - “to cancel or annul”. Present tense: disdico, disdici, disdice, disdiciamo, disdite, disdicono.


Si prega di mantenere controllato il monitor Si prega di mantenere controllato il monitor
Si prega di mantenere controllato il monitor e attendere il proprio turno.
“Please keep an eye on the monitor and wait for your turn.”

Speaking of healthcare in Italy: one must get used to these monitors and their split-flap display sound. The metallic flapping sound is artificial in these monitors and is only used to draw your attention to updates.

When this photo was taken, we were waiting for our turn to visit a doctor. Not all providers in the Italian healthcare system use these monitors, but many do (as well as other institutions). Waiting in Italy is sort of a national pastime.

You typically start your healthcare appointment by getting a ticket with a letter-number combination on it. This letter-number combination is what you are looking for on the monitors.

In this sign, you are advised to keep watching the monitor because the order that tickets were issued may not be the order of service. This monitor was seen in Bergamo’s main hospital: ASST Papa Giovanni XXIII.

While waiting for our turn, I wondered about the grammar on this sign. In particular, I had a hard time with controllato wanting instead to see controllo. The phrase si prega di mantenere can be followed by a noun, adjective or adverb. In this case, controllato is an adjective and il monitor is the thing on which an eye is kept.

Bet you didn’t know going to a doctor’s appointment could be so much fun.

Thursday, September 26, 2024

Notes on Deaths and Houses

Missing the missing - relationships that never were


We sold our house. In the middle of preparations to do that my father died. I was surprised that I was more upset over the loss of our house. Before you think of me a cold-hearted person, please let me explain, because I’ve had many years of mourning for my dad but not for the house.

Missing the missing


My dad and I were not close. I loved him and he loved me, but we weren’t close. I wish we had been. He was somewhat present when I was growing up, but we were 4 kids, he was running a business, he participated in the Lion's Club and Elk's Club, he liked to bowl and golf, and he had a situation at home that made it easy for him to want to stay away. A less-than-civil divorce when I was 14 didn't help matters. Could I have reasonably expected that after the divorce our relationship would have improved? No.

After some initial anger, I accepted that we just didn't have that relationship like some of my friends had with their dads. 

I little tinge of regret came back to me seeing my younger stepbrother at dad’s funeral. He was born from a subsequent marriage, which also ended in divorce but much more amicably. He grew up close to our dad, who gave him more attention than he ever gave me, at least by my reckoning. I’m happy that my stepbrother had that.

My stepbrother would be missing dad more than me. Being at the funeral service was more visceral for him and more abstract for me. I didn't have to go back to dad’s house and see dad's last cigarette in the ashtray. My stepbrother did.

Some math. My dad died at almost 90 years old. The first and last 30 years of my dad’s life trumped the middle 30 if you ask me, and I suppose in a way that was good because he seemed to achieve some degree of happiness in those two non-consecutive 30 years spans. The first 30 years: young, handsome and happy-go-lucky. The last 30 years: successful third marriage and family life. Unfortunately, I appeared in my dad’s life in that second 30-year span that wasn’t so happy – again, my opinion. The second 30-year span had lots of chaos and a bitter (upgraded the adjective thinking about it) divorce. After the acrimonious (new adjective) divorce, our relationship never went beyond an already limited one. So yeah, I loved my dad and miss him but had been missing him for some time.

A bright spot: in the last few years, we started to get a little closer as adults, with less focus on the past. Unfortunately, that getting closer got cut short with a call one morning on my last birthday with news of his death.

Despite the period of my dad’s life I appeared in, it nevertheless felt awkward that I wasn’t consulted in writing or contributing or reviewing the obituary or for any funeral arrangements. I know that the last 30 years of my dad’s life were important, but to write my siblings and me (of the same mother) off seemed to be an oversight. Perusing the photo boards posted at the service, out of 250+ photos I saw four of me and zero of my partner of 35 years. The lack of photo representation emphasized what I guess I already knew: my relationship with dad was tenuous. But what does it matter now, it’s just a photo board my partner - voice of reason - reminds me one day months after the service.

Our house


My partner and I lived in our house in Seattle, ironically, for about 30 years. We fell in love with the house at first sight. We lovingly remodeled it and had many good times in the house. You could say we had a strong relationship with the house. We had skin in the game with it. It was our first home that we owned. We grew up in the house so to speak.

Selling it was bittersweet. It was sadder that my dad’s passing in a way because there was more “relationship” lost in selling. And the loss was fresh, rawer.

But really, the selling of a house affected me more than my own father’s passing? I struggled to slap myself out of this feeling, but I couldn’t.

Unfortunately, my dad never came to visit my house, my life in Seattle. Yes, it was 3,000 miles away but so was my sister’s house and he visited her, and she didn’t even bother to come to the funeral. Harrumph!

The last 30-years, my dad and I lived separate lives.

Deaths in houses


There was a death in our house in 1967. The newspaper article said the owner went into a room and gunshots were heard by his wife who discovered him dead. So many questions. Should we include it in the history of the house that we created for the buyers or let them discover that themselves? What room did that exactly happen in, not that we ever experienced any bad juju in any room of the house. Did his wife ever sleep in that room again if it occurred in the bedroom? Was their marriage good?

One place where the marriage wasn’t good was in the house I grew up in. That house in the unpleasant (stop!) divorce went to my mother as did the kids. You could say my parents’ marriage metaphorically died in that house and we lived in the carcass of the marriage for many years. It takes two to tango, but a carcass is a carcass.

I remember many things about the house I grew up in. Three in particular: the wood-paneled Pledge® scented hallway, the day the house got assembled (it arrived in pieces I’m not kidding!), and the night my dad left. He left with a bunch of clothes in his arms. He asked for my help carrying stuff to the car. His car was parked in front of the house, the spot usually reserved for visitors. Clothes thrown in back, he peeled off in his car never to come back. It was 1978.

Another memory of that childhood house: I never saw my dad happily saunter down that wood-paneled hallway to the bedroom; my parents never slept together as far as I remember. They were seldom affectionate and loving. How awful for them. How awful for us kids. I hope that wasn’t bad juju for the next owners.

What little information I could get about my dad’s death, I learned he died at home, in his sleep with the TV on. He died just 2 miles away from the house he left in 1978. For all intents and purposes, it could have been 3,000 miles away.
 

Closures


Recently, I started to realize that who is with you at “the end” often drives who writes your story and closes out your life. My dad’s new family (the last 30-year span of his life) took care of everything for him during the last years of his life: finances, funeral, and the legal aftermath. From my outsider perspective, there seems to have been a genuine and loving sense of bonding between my dad and his third wife, and the blended family of his third wife’s family combined with my stepbrother from my dad’s second marriage. A pleasant last 30 years in all. Hooray dad, you got there!

When he passed, my involvement was nothing more than showing up and being present as best as I could at the funeral service. It was awkward to be at the funeral, but I wanted to be there. I needed the closure. The whole affair made me wonder who I’d be with toward the end of my life. What stories will be told, and which stories will be omitted after I'm gone? Who will be left off of my photo boards?

A story that reared its head at the funeral was something of a origin story for my dad in those last 30 years. It was an unpleasant event that took place sometime around the divorce that involved my dad, some family members, and an unwarranted pummeling. I wasn’t there. I only heard the story recounted by my dad, multiple times and in tears. It was a formative if not an extremely unnerving event for him. Many in the last third of his life knew of this event, or some version of it. Still, it was tacky and unwarranted when the spouse of a stepsister I didn’t know greeted me with the question “Why did it happen?” referring to the story. If she needed some form of closure, I could offer none.

The probate hearing for dad’s estate was on the same day we sold our house. Closures! We were on pins and needles most of the day waiting to hear news about the house. We did not worry about or attend the probate hearing.

In the final days of closing our house and saying goodbye, we had – what seemed like at the time – a flood of visitors who wanted to stop by and spend time with us. I was less than a gracious host. I kept wondering why is it now that everyone wants to come over? I just wanted to mope around the house the last weeks and days of our ownership saying goodbye in my own way, not serving people and cleaning up after parties. Then it occurred to me that these friends being there at the end (really a send-off of the house) were the right people to be there to help close out the house’s story.
 

Photo justice


As we got closer to selling our house, I ran around taking pictures and videos of everything I could. I wanted to capture the house, so I’d never forget it. Yet in the back of my mind, I knew it was a fool’s errand to try to remember something too well. It’s okay if the house like my dad are hazy recollections. Better for nostalgia to fill in and soften the reality.

My dad had a set of (photographic) slides mostly from the first 30 years of his life – happy times. Those slides were of his time in the army based in Germany and his travels around Europe. Scratched up and dirty slides of dad in front of the “Little Mermaid” in Copenhagen, dad on skis in some Italian alpine resort, dad on the Amalfi Coast, dad in Paris, dad in front of 10 Downing Street. Ironically, these are all places I would eventually visit in my travels.

The night my dad left with with his clothes in arms, those slides were not part of his exit. He longed for those slides for years and would ask about them repeatedly. Maybe he wanted some proof of his happiness in those first 30 years? 

My answer each time he asked me was “I don’t know anything about them.” And I really didn’t. Then one day 20 odd years after the divorce, the slides magically were shown to me in a sort of oh-by-the-way look at this. Were the slides kept out of malice or simply misplaced?

I sincerely hope my dad didn’t think I was a useless apparatchik, just following orders. I really didn’t know about those slides and was appalled to find out about their existence. I could appreciate the importance of those photos for him as photos are also important to me. To make some attempt at amends, I personally returned the slides and digital versions of them. A small gesture for closure.

Flutes and whistles


The Dead Can Dance song “Fortune Presents Gifts Not According to the Rules” (Aion 1990) has the lines:

“Fortune presents gifts
Not according to the book
When you expect whistles it's flutes
When you expect flutes it's whistles”

The song’s text comes from a poem “Da bienes Fortuna” by Spanish Poet, Luis de Gongora (1561 – 1627). The poem explores the theme of fortune and how she bestows gifts unpredictably.

We must comply with fortune’s gifts. This is one way to think about the relationship with my dad. It was what it was. The relationship we never had was partly my fault, partly his fault, and partly (okay largely) external actors. Some of these external actors decided to put a monkey wrench in the relationship machinery for reasons I will never begin to understand nor want to at this point. Fortune wasn’t feeling generous.

Despite the wrench in the machinery, what I do know about dad, I feel like we have a lot in common. And that makes me sad to not have understood that sooner and at a deeper level. The times I spent with my dad, I found him to be a decent person, not malicious and willing to help others. That’s all good in my book, fortune be damned.