The perils of being hit by air

So we’re in the middle of winter – the Christmas/New Year season is over and now we have to get through the bleak cold months without the Christmas lights to give us a bit of cheer.  (Although with Carnevale starting we can cheer ourselves up with frittelle.)  Being the coldest part of the year and the time when it seems everyone has a sniffle, cough, chill, flu or plain old hangover.  I’ve been musing on the Italians and their attitude to health and well being. 

Now every nation has their own particular health beliefs that may or may not have a basis in sound medical fact – ones I remember from my childhood include not swimming for at least an hour after eating (with my mother this also included taking a bath) lest you get a stitch and another my mum was particularly fond of was not leaving the house with wet hair a piece of advice I have ignored to this day without suffering any consequences.  The Italians have their own peculiar set of beliefs when it comes to their health and from what I and my fellow expat colleges have noticed it all comes down to wind.  The Italians live in fear of “colpo d’aria” – a hit of air which can cause my Italian friends any number of aches and pains.  To avoid the life threatening consequences of an air hit it’s important for every Italian to wear their maglia della salute (or shirt of health) from the first signs of autumn to ridiculously late into the summer.  I always wondered about the Italian penchant for the sleeveless woollen tank so I was relieved to find that there was a health benefit to such a hideous piece of clothing.  The Italians also believe that letting your stomach get a chill with result in a serious case of diarrhoea (no seriously.)  The neck is also prone to hits of air meaning that driving with the window open is a life hazard and those of us hardy non Italian souls will always find a table in a crowded bar being that we are happy to sit near the door.  Neck protection is a year round concern and I remember thinking it bizarre and more than just a little prattish seeing Italians (males especially) in the height of summer wearing shorts, t-shirts but then wrapping a scarf around their necks. 

When talking about maladies I’ve been caught out by the very different ways Anglos and Italians react to the question – how are you?  For us Anglos the answer to the question is fine/good not bad – which may or may not be the truth let’s face it the asker isn’t really after a proper answer it’s just a ritual.  If you really are at deaths door “Oh a bit under the weather” is the usual phrase.  I was therefore unprepared when asking this of an Italian and get a graphic description of the current cold, stiff neck, cystitis and yes even thrush.  Last week while on a train, I couldn’t help but listen in to a woman recounting her fever – giving a rundown of the hourly temperature only for her friend to remember the stats of one of her fevers – six years ago.  I’m not sure the Italians ever just take and aspirin and go to bed.

Given how concerned the Italians are with their health I’m surprised and even a little outraged at how expensive basic drugs are in this country.  A small pack of usual over the counter pain relief will set you back nearly 10 Euro and there’s no picking up a packet while buying groceries.  No you have to go to the pharmacy and speak to the pharmacist before you can get your hands on those goodies.  Unsurprisingly whenever any of us head to the UK it’s usually with requests to bring back a small pharmacy.  Luckily I’ve not as yet had to visit a doctor and that is despite not under taking a preventative regime which from what I can gather involves regular temperature checks, annual blood tests and some bizarre thing which involves wearing a mask and shoving things up your nose – and no I don’t know what’s with that. 

Now generally I like to keep an open mind about cultural differences but at the moment I am getting a slightly cruel joy at putting on my best Aussie accents and telling my friends to “just harden the fuck up!”

Reading

Escaping my little spot in Italy for the seasonal silliness I found myself in a not unpleasant little village in the English lake district.  There wasn’t much to do in this little village, especially when the weather lives up to its British billing.  One evening one of my very kind hosts passed a book on to me saying that I might be interested in reading about the main character’s struggle with learning Italian.  The book was "The Broker" by John Grisham and the perfect kind of throw away reading for my Christmas food and booze addled mind.  The main character is the disgraced broker of the title who for various reasons gets given a new identity by the US government and hidden in Italy where no one will find him until the government wants them to.   Wanting a place in Italy where no one would think of looking naturally the Americans dump our hero in Treviso.  I always find it fun to read novels or see films in places that I’ve been to – to read or watch characters walking streets that you know. 

Mr Grisham did a pretty good job of describing the city (although I made small allowances for topographical errors in service to the plot.)  It was when it came to describing the people and culture  that it became a bit frustrating – out came the old clichés of well dressed, beautiful etc etc that I wondered if the writer was being a little superficial or dare I say even a wee bit lazy.  To make matters even harder for himself Grisham writes in an Italian character whose job it is to help the hero’s transition into the country.  If you’re going to write a character from another culture I reckon you need to be damn confident that you know your stuff.  Therefore it’s an unforgivable error was that neither our hero nor his Italian fix it man comment on or try spritz!  I mean jeez John, that’s intro to the Veneto 101.

The more books and articles I read about this place. that I know so well, the more I notice inaccuracies and the more frustrated I get with writers glib pronouncements.  Reading about Venice is even more frustrating.  It seems as if every writer needs to make some sort of preamble to their piece which goes along the lines of – Venice is more than San Marco, over priced pizza and made in China glass, step away from the tourist path and you will see the real Venice – the subtext being I know the real Venice and I may point you in the few directions but you as a mere tourist will never really see the real Venice.  Then proceed to offer the same “non package tourist tips” – Castello is where the real Venetians are, have a drink in Dorsoduro etc etc.  Except this is no more the real Venice than a drink in Harry’s bar.  I know writers need to sell themselves and thus portray themselves as some kind of expert but I wish for once someone would say something like “I’m no experts but this is what I liked about the place and perhaps it may inspire you to explore a bit.

I have begun to wonder if anyone can write about a place without being a native or at least living and breathing the place.  As much as I love Venice, made an attempt to learn it I would never have the arrogance to say I know what makes Venice tick – that would take years of study.  There is a lot to be said say for fresh eyes and new perspective etc etc, it’s just that increasingly I’m losing patience with lazy writing and prefer to read accounts from people who have studied or lived the place.  I wonder what Italians think of all these interpretations of their country, city and culture – I hope they can indulge me just a little.