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In this round of Street Sign Language Lesson, we wander from Bergamo to Brescia and from Iseo to Asolo, discovering how Italian signs can be playful, bureaucratic, or even poetic.
Bergamo da non perdere
“Bergamo not to be missed”
“160 years of yes for our territories. Here’s why we say NO to UniCredit’s offer.”
This is a poster we saw at Banco BPM. The acronym OPS threw us off. OPS is Offerta Pubblica di Scambio, a takeover offer one company makes for another. The background is this: UniCredit withdrew its Public Exchange Offer (OPS) for the acquisition of Banco BPM in July 2025 due to uncertainty over the approval of the Government's Golden Power and the long-time frame to obtain the final resolution of the matter. The offer, launched in November 2024, provided for the exchange of 0.175 UniCredit shares for each Banco BPM share, but was deemed inadequate and at a significant discount to shareholders by Banco BPM.
The Italian language often uses anni di + noun to encapsulate a legacy: anni di lotta (years of struggle), anni di esperienza (years of experience). The phrase—diciamo no—is a classic political slogan structure: subject + verb + emphatic particle.
Bizzi con l'Arrosticino - ti sfizi
“Bizi skewers - indulge yourself” or "Bizzi Arrosticini - the treat that hits the spot"
We saw this jolly kid’s face on a food truck when we pulled into the parking of Spaccio Dolciario Galbusera Tre Marie - Forcola (SO) en route to a hike. (See Val Grosina and Alpe Dosdè Two-Day Hike.)
The verb sfiziarsi comes from sfizio, meaning whim, fancy, or craving. Ti sfizi is second person reflexive: “you treat yourself; you indulge.” It’s playful, colloquial, and Romanesco/Central Italian in flavor. The rhyme between Bizzi (the company name) and sfizi is great marketing sing-song rhyme.
Arrosticini are a traditional dish from Abruzzese cuisine, consisting of small skewers of sheep meat cut into cubes, threaded onto wooden sticks, and grilled. They are prepared with mutton or young lamb, alternating lean pieces with fattier ones, then cooked over charcoal—preferably on a special grill called a fornacella—and eaten with the hands.
È VIETATO DI ABBEVERARE QUADRUPEDI
"Don’t let your dogs drink from this fountain”
È vietato + infinitive is the standard prohibition formula. But here we get di abbeverare instead of the more common abbeverare directly. So, strictly speaking, è vietato abbeverare would be more standard. The addition of di is a regional, bureaucratic flourish, or humorous flourish?
Quadrupedi—literally “four-footed ones”—is a formal, almost zoological term. Instead of cani (dogs) or animali, the sign raises the register, as if the fountain were a Roman law tablet.
We saw this sign in Asolo, in the province of Treviso.
Sono un vaso non un posacenere – grazie
“I’m a vase, not an ashtray – thank you”
In this sign spotted in Brescia, the vase speaks in the first person: sono un vaso. This anthropomorphic use in public notices makes the message more direct and polite. Compare: Non buttare i rifiuti ("don’t throw trash") vs. Io non sono un cestino ("I’m not a trash can"). The latter feels more human, and more shaming.
Also note the lack of punctuation between vaso and non un posacenere. In English we’d expect a comma or dash, but Italian signage often skips it, relying on rhythm.
SPAZIO CALMO
“Calm space”
This accessibility sign designates a refuge area that people with disabilities should use during emergencies. We saw the sign near an elevator in a parking structure in Bergamo.
The phrase is interesting because spazio calmo is not idiomatic everyday Italian, you’d expect phrases like zona di rifugio or area protetta. But spazio calmo is the official technical term in fire-safety regulations (Decreto Ministeriale 3 agosto 2015). It’s a literal borrowing from EU directives, where “calm space” is used in English.
TELO MARE COVERI
“Beach towel by Enrico Coveri”
We instinctively read Coveri as “cover”—but it’s the brand, Enrico Coveri. Another reminder of how cultural literacy can trip us up in the funniest ways.
Un telo mare is the standard phrase for a beach towel. Notice there’s no preposition: not telo da mare but simply telo mare. This is an example of a “bare compound” construction that Italian allows in set phrases: scarpe tennis (tennis shoes), pantaloni sci (ski pants).
transito consentito alle biciclette solo se condotte a mano
“Please walk your bike”
This sign was spotted along a pedestrian waterfront path in the town of Iseo, on Lago Iseo. The Italian wording is long and formal: literally, "Transit permitted to bicycles only if walked by hand." It’s the kind of precise and legalistic phrasing you’d expect in a municipal ordinance.
What struck us is that the English version on the same sign is more compact: "please walk your bike." Rather than spelling out the condition ("transit permitted only if…"), it flips the perspective and gives a direct instruction to the cyclist.
Why is this the case? Italian public signage often mirrors the syntax of regulations. The phrase transito consentito… echoes the language of traffic codes, where permissions and restrictions are spelled out in full. On the other hand, English signage tends to favor brevity and direct imperatives: "Keep off the grass", "Mind the gap", "Walk your bike". The goal is quick comprehension over legal precision. Italian frames the rule from the authority’s point of view ("transit is permitted only if…"). English frames it from the user’s point of view ("you must walk your bike").
We ran into this cultural sign difference when trying to check ZTL (zona traffico limitato) hours in Bergamo. The rules and hours were frustratingly not written from the perspective of someone simply trying to find out when they can drive into the upper city.
Other examples:
- Accesso consentito ai soli autorizzati* → "Authorized personnel only"
- È vietato fumare → "No smoking"
- Transito vietato ai veicoli a motore → "No motor vehicles"
In each case, Italian uses a full verbal construction, while English compresses it into a noun phrase or imperative.
