The ANNOTICO Report

Bob Masullo is probably better equipped to give an accurate and compelling
view of Italy than anyone I know. He is well steeped in Italian American
and Italian Culture, has had a journalistic career, and has an engaging
style.

He is second best, only to be there.

By BOB MASULLO

The bells of San Michele, the church across the street from our apartment
in Soiano del Lago, are ringing our “Salve Regina.” It is high noon and
memories of Catholic elementary school leapfrog over decades into my mind.

My wife Eileen and I, well into the second month of our retirement dream of
living a full year in Italy, hear the bells as a gentle reminder of Italy’s
long Christian heritage.

Yet it is so different from the fundamentalist version of the same faith
prevalent in the United States.

Christianity Italian-style is much more humane, much more comprehending of
the fact that we all are sinners.

Within a few steps of San Michele are two vending machines. One, at the
tabaccheria, sells not only cigarettes but beer 24 hours a day; the other,
on the front of the farmacia, sells condoms. Both machines are accessible
to anyone of any age.

Were attempts made to install similar machines in any town in the United
States multiple uproars would ensue, especially if they wanted to put them
next to a church. Here Don Pietro, the parish priest, may not approve of
the products but accepts the machines with equanimity. I can’t imagine any
U.S. soul-saver -- Catholic, Protestant or otherwise -- reacting in such a
way.

But Italy is a land of contrasts. The same people who live and work in
buildings constructed in the Middle Ages (if not far before that) walk
around in the most up-to-the-minute fashions, talking on cell phones and
discussing the latest developments around the world.

Women who routinely stop and bless themselves before shrines built into
building facades almost everywhere often as not are wearing revealing
attire. Low cut blouses, micro mini skirts and sexy footwear seem to be the
rule, not the exception.

And in a country that prides itself on its cuisine more than any other (the
French might argue the point), the variety of junk foods available from
cafes, supermarkets and street vendors (to say nothing of McDonalds) is
amazing.

As we enter our sixth week in the bel paese, we continue to struggle with
the language. Having 100 percent Italian blood coursing through my veins
does not seem to help with the learning process. Nevertheless, I am picking
up words by an osmosis-like process. Eileen, with her polyglot
(Irish-German-Danish-Swedish-Jewish) heritage, is doing it, too, perhaps
even faster.

For example, yesterday we learned apriscatole is the word for “can opener.”
Why? Because we were preparing dinner and needed one in a hurry. Eileen
asked neighbors Augusta Bertazzi and Silvano Sartori for one. Of course,
that meant checking the dictionary first. Now apriscatole is imbedded in
our minds in a way it never would be had we come across it in a language
text book.

Which brings me to a gripe I have with the way languages – Italian and all
others -- are taught. Why all the mind-numbing emphasis on grammar? Who
really cares about grammatical terms in any language? Instead of
concentrating on, say, how pronouns modify direct objects, why not just use
them in a few sentences the way people do in normal speech? Concentration
on grammar is the reason so many of us cannot say even a simple sentence in
the language we studied in high school or college.

But back to the can opener. Signora Bertazzi, a very sweet lady a few years
younger than us, came through with one, although it broke as we used it.
Eileen is off today to buy her (and us) new ones.

Note that Signora Bertazzi is not called by her husband’s last name.
Italian women keep their “maiden” name forever. And that has nothing to do
with the feminist movement; it has always been the practice.

We entertained Augusta and Silvano in our appartamento one evening
recently, serving them prosecco (a delightful, slightly sweet sparkling
wine that costs a fraction of champagne and is produced locally),
cheese-and-cracker nibblies (what the Italians call saltini), and the
virtually mandatory item of all Italian social encounters, espresso.

The conversation consisted of them speaking only in Italian and Eileen and
I speaking a mixture of Italian, English and sign-language. It went
surprisingly well. We learned that they are living in the apartment complex
only while their home in Gardone, a few miles to the north, is being
repaired. It was made uninhabitable by a small earthquake last year that
did not do much damage to the town. Only three homes were seriously
affected. Unfortunately for Augusta and Silvano, theirs was one.

They showed us photos of the home and their family. We returned the favor.
We discussed the weather – it has been annoyingly hot and humid in northern
Italy for much of the time that we have been here – and movies. Silvano is
a big film fan and remembers the storyline and cast of hundreds, both
American and Italian. Augusta, on the other hand, forgets a movie shortly
after seeing one.

The familiarity of Italians with American life is remarkable. They seem to
know our politics, our likes and dislike, our celebrity gossip and our
music better than we do.

As far as politics go, thus far we have been treated politely. We were
expecting to run into some anti-Americanism but so far none has come our
way even though the vast majority of Italians strongly oppose the war in
Iraq. More than a million marched against it in Rome. Nevertheless we have
not heard a word of criticism.

Perhaps that is because Italy has Silvio Berlusconi as prime minister, a
man as prone to malapropos as George Bush and equally to the right. He not
only opposed the popular sentiment against the war but also sent the
third-largest contingent of soldiers to Iraq (after the U.S. and U.K.).

One of the state TV channels runs a weekly segment in a news program called
“Oh, no, Silvio,” which shows a collection of clips of Berlusconi saying or
doing foolish things during the previous seven days.
“Voi avete Bush, noi abbiamo Berlusconi,” is an oft-repeated phrase. It
literally means “You have Bush, we have Berlusconi” but amounts to “We’re
in no position to criticize.”

Similarly, living in northern Italy, I was prepared to hear slurs because
of my very southern Italian surname. But, again, none have come. I do,
occasionally see crudely scrawled graffiti promoting the Lega Nord, the
rabidly anti-southern political party that, sadly, is part of Berlusconi’s
coalition. I react, as I think a black American would, to graffiti
extolling the Ku Klux Klan. But no one has said anything worse to my face
than “the traffic is crazy in Naples,” which, of course could be
interpreted as a slur but is also a fact.

In recent days we have been entertaining two friends from America, Barbara
Korn (who is the mother-in-law of our daughter Madeline) and her friend
Rick Reynolds. We went on a four-day road trip with them to Bologna,
Florence, Perugia, Asissi and Deruta. Each was a marvel in its own way.

A heat wave that has been hanging over much of Europe made our enjoyment of
these cities less than it might have been. But we pushed on anyway, through
the porticoed streets of Bologna, the art and architecture of Florence, the
religious touchstones of Asissi and the ceramic wonders of Deruta.

We used Perugia as our base, staying in the pleasant three-star Hotel
Grifone run by the gracious (married) couple Anna Cinelli and Giovanni
Argentari. In Perugia we attended the Umbria Jazz Festival, a concert that
featured as its warm-up act, the Count Basie Orchestra, and Tony Bennett as
the main course. Held in a soccer stadium in a bowl-like low-point in the
otherwise elevated hill town, on a moonlit night, with a fantastic stage
and sound system, it was the kind of musical experience one usually only
dreams about.

Bennett (nee Benedetto), the last of the Italian-American giants who
dominated popular music around the world for much of the last century, was
still, at 78, in remarkable physical and vocal shape. Sure, sure, he had to
finesse some notes. But he sounded better than the bulk of singers a
fraction of his age and looked incredibly debonair as he delivered song
after song in his unique style for more than 90 minutes. This late in his
career, it would have been a thrill to see him perform anywhere, but in
this Italian setting it was extraordinary. The Italians loved him. And so
did the Americans (especially the Italian-Americans) among them.

He spoke very little (and that only in English) but did sing one song in
Neapolitan (“’O sole mio”), maybe not the best choice for an Umbrian
audience but something that did show an effort to connect.

Near the end of the evening, however, he did tell the audience: “I want you
to know, I love everything about Italy.”

And you know, after six weeks of living as an Italian (and 66 years as an
Italian-American), I do, too.
Save, maybe, the summer heat.
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VIAGGIO AT A GLANCE

For September 2005 issue of Fra Noi

By BOB MASULLO

Since we had amici from America visiting, we covered more ground this past
month than we otherwise might have.

Our big tour included, as the main story notes, a motor trip from Italy’s
north to its center with stops in Bologna, Florence, Perugia, Asissi and
Deruta.  We’ll say a little about each.

Additionally, we circumnavigated Lago di Garda, our home base, stopping at
numerous little towns along its edge. We’ll comment on three superb ones –
Gardone, Malcesine and Sirmione.

Based on the experiences we had, here’s one overriding bit of advice for
those planning trips: If you’re coming to Italy in the summer, avoid the
big cities as much as possible and concentrate on the lakes, coasts and
mountains.

Italy does get hot, often very hot, in summer and it is better to be where
you can easily cool off. The cities, for all their charms can be torturous
when the temperature and humidity are in the 90s and you’re competing with
a zillion other tourists. Trips to them are far more enjoyable in other
seasons.

BOLOGNA – Sometimes called grassa (fat) because it has such good food,
sometimes  dotta (learned) because it is home to the oldest university in
Europe, and sometimes rosso (red) because its politics are decidedly left,
this city is visibly distinct because of its porticos. Virtually every
street is covered by one. Main downtown attractions are the twin towers
(Garisenda and Asinelli) and the Museo Civico Medioevale, a museum that
will tell you all you ever wanted to know about Bologna and its people.
Noteworthy restaurants abound; we had a good experience at Ristorante
Diana. You can’t go wrong if you stick with the local pastas and sauces.

FLORENCE – There is more great art in virtually any block of this city than
in all of most cities. Their fame and beauty, however, draw throngs.
Getting into the Uffizi, one of the world’s greatest art museums, without
advance reservations (make them through your travel agent) can mean
standing in line for hours. For some reason Florence attracts more dumb
tourists than any place in Italy. Don’t be one. Get a good guidebook and
read up before arriving. Best news: the beautiful 13th century Duomo (main
cathedral), which had been black with soot for years, has been cleaned up.
It now looks like a sparkling birthday cake.

ASISSI – St. Francis, Italy’s patron saint, had remarkably good taste in
picking this as his home town. Of all the great hilltop communities of
central Italy, Asissi is the crowning jewel. Walk it from end to end. There
doesn’t seem to be an inch that is not beautiful and/or historically or
religiously significant. Food is not bad and shops, filled with quality
products (and some junk), tend to stay open during the mid-day hours.

PERUGIA – Great city with a terrific medieval core -- but you have to climb
a lot of steep hills. Numerous scale mobile (escalators) help somewhat. If
you have any physical problems, though, this city is a serious challenge.
Summer jazz festival attracts some of the world’s biggest names and is
worth planning a trip around.

DERUTA – Not a major tourist town but worth the short drive from Perugia if
you’re into beautifully colored majolica dishes, vases, plaques, etc. There
are scores of little factories that make and shops that sell them. Don’t
miss the Santuario Madonna del Bagno, a chapel that is filled with 650
majolica plaques thanking the Virgin Mary for personal “miracles.”

SIRMIONE – On a peninsula that juts into the lake, it has elegant spas, a
castle with a moat, and the ruins of a third century Roman villa which,
allegedly, was the home of poet Catullus (Latin name; in Italian he’s
Catullo). Excellent sea food is available; we had a wonderful meal (with
views to match) at the Albergo Grifone.

GARDONE (also known as GARDONE RIVIERA) – Is an elegant, if dated, resort
town where poet and World War I military hero Gabriele D’Annunzio’s home
(the Vittoriale) is the major attraction. The home and its surrounding
grounds are wild, funky and amusing – Italy’s answer to Hearst Castle.

MALCESINE – A scenically  spectacular town with two major attractions – a
gondola that takes you up Monte Baldo and Scaligero Castle. Both offer
spectacular views of the lake and surrounding mountains but the castle is
the better bargain (four euros rather than 15 – about $5 rather than about
$20).

NEXT MONTH: Bob and Eileen go on a side trip to France and Switzerland.
That is, from a language and geography they know slightly, to ones they
know not at all. They also continue exploring the Italian countryside and
working on their Italian language skills.