The Two Funniest Words in Italian

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September 24, 2007

By Dan

Oh, do we like Italy and Italians!  No offense towards France and the French -- in fact, Grayson still thinks that France might be his country of choice.  But, the difference in personality struck us almost immediately.  We crossed from France to Italy on a toll road, and when we exited in the little town of Finale Ligure on the coast, we had to stop at the toll booth to pay.  It took some time to dig out the correct change, and the guy behind us honked.  °Ah, relaxa back thera, whatsa the hurry?"  the friendly toll taker said.  "Itsa nice day, there is no rush, and you are welcome in Italia."  We could not have asked for a nicer way to be greeted.  The positive vibe continued throughout the day, as waitresses smiled at our very mangled Italian, and the ladies at the gelato place gave the kids some impromptu lessons.

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I made the mistake that night in Finale Ligure of thinking to myself that my blog entries really had not been all that funny, because things had been going so well for us.  (We all know that suffering makes for much better material for writers!)  Well, there was no wood to knock on, and no monkey skin to touch (loyal readers of this blog will appreciate the latter reference), and so I may have jinxed us a little.

While the Curse of the Bambino may have been lifted with the Red Sox' victory a few years ago, the Curse of Milano is clearly upon us.  It all started with our efforts to drive to our hotel there.  We had both too many and not enough maps and directions, and spent close to two hours exploring Milan by car.  Not part of the plan!  There are lots of one way streets, no left turn signs, and taxi-bus only lanes.  We broke a few dozen laws in those two hours.  At one point, sitting in a bus-taxi only lane, I noticed a carabinieri car in the lane next to me, and one immediately across from me.  Christina and the kids all conspicuously held up maps and looked lost, while I carefully avoided eye contact and wondered whether our French license plates would increase or decrease the likelihood of detention.  Eventually, we made it to our destination, the Milan Hilton.  We had booked a room there on priceline.com, having been unable to find even a hostel that cost less than a Medici dowry.  On the eve of the start of Milan's fall fashion shows, rooms were apparently at a premium.  The reason for the incredibly low price became clear, though, when we learned that we had booked the room for October 18, not September 18.  As Bill Murray says at the beginning of the movie "Stripes", "Then, depression set in. . . ."  Chalk up one day of blown budget.  (Thankfully, the clerk upgraded us to a suite, and it was a lovely hotel, so we got our money's worth.  If anyone is looking for a room in Milan on October 18, we can probably set you up.)

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Our one tourism goal in MIlan was to see da Vinci's The Last Supper.  Our tax ride over to see it was made amusing by our driver, who had made a trip to the USA to see the Harley factory in Wisconsin, loved country music, and thought George Bush was a great guy.  Grayson refrained from telling his famous Bush joke, in the interest of diplomacy.  The Curse continued when we realized that we did not have our reservation confirmation number, but we managed to talk our way in to our allotted 15 minutes with the famous da Vinci fresco.  It is something special to see.

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Strolling the streets of Milan, I was thrilled to spot our first Citibank, and hurried over to get some money.  (Three days later, I realized that I had in all probability left my ATM card there.  Did I mention a Curse?)  At the beautiful Galleria, which has always been one of my favorite spots in Milan, we all dutifully rubbed the testicles of a bull on a floor mosaic, said to bring good luck.  I'm just glad it was a mosaic and not a real bull, which would probably result in some immediate bad luck.  The Milan Cathedral was fun to see, too.  Its ornate, almost gaudy style really contrasts with the early Gothic style we had seen in France.

The Curse of Milan was lifted for a time during our awesome dinner there.  My friend of almost 20 years Mara was nice enough to invite us all over to have dinner with her family.  Her husband Edo, 9-year old daughter Margherita, and German nanny Petra probably had no idea what they were getting into.  The kids had a fantastic tme together.  Petra did some translating, but Abby and Margherita spent the whole evening howling with laughter.  (This despite the fact that the extent of their shared vocabulary seemed to be "Grazie" and "Prego"-  Who knew those two words could be so funny?)  Mara and Edo were incredibly enjoyable, with interesting commentary, kind words, and constant laughing. It was one of those dinners that you really hate to leave.  Thanks, Mara, and family -- you're the biggest reason we like Italians!

Did I mention something about a Curse?  When we got home home from our dinner at Mara's, we found that the laptop, which had been uploading photos when we left, was misbehaving.  Lots of tinkering did not help, so the next morning I took it to a repair place recommended by the concierge.  There, I heard the four least funny words in Italian-accented English:  "You have a vee-roos."  We didn't have time to fix it there, so I decided to try our luck in Venice.  (Skipping ahead, the diagnosis in Venice was not a vee-roos, but "the harda-drivo is kaputo."  We're still working on things, but Alex M, maybe you were right ......)  Afraid of what other disasters might befall us, we got out of Milan as quickly as we could.  Thanks to Mara and the Hilton for saving a bad situation.

Fittingly, I think it was Napoleon, who was born on the island of Corsica (French, but really Italian), who said something about armies travelling on their stomachs.  Any general knows that troops that like the food are happy troops.  Our little family army is no different.  Grayson has been in a state of euphoria from the start, with all of the choices.  Abby, we knew, would be tougher.  Right now, though, she has found her sweet spot, and it's just a shame that she can't be eating Italian food for our whole trip.  The daily dilemma of lasagna vs. spaghetti, or panini vs. pizza, or raspberry vs. yoghurt gelato, is really stressing out the poor girl.  But, it's a stress we can all live with, quite happily.  Have I mentioned yet that we like Italy?

Just as armies like to eat well, they like to have good places to pitch their tents at night.  Christina continues to deliver in an amazing way, as our primary travel agent for the first 3 months.  All of those late nights on the internet were really worth it.  She asked me recently where my favorite place to stay had been, and I just couldn't choose.  They have been so different, but each just right.  The last two spots are perfect examples:  an inn in Venice, where we could look out our window over a courtyard and see a church that was 6 or so hundred years old, or step out the front door to see gondolas passing by.  Now, we're staying on top of a hill in Tuscany, watching the local farmers tend the grapes while the kids frolic in the pool.  Oh, yeah, we like Italy.

More details about Venice and Tuscany to come, but nobody is regretting putting Italy on our itinerary.