Italian Ailments and Cold-air Habits
I do not typically re-post news articles here, but this one is particularly revealing of the Italian culture. My husband emailed me the essay below early last week, and reposting it to Facebook has produced plenty of comments.
It reminds me of my children's Italian preschool days. Peanut and Buddy never played outside in the winter months, their Italian teachers either refusing to spend the time outside themselves or believing it was not "healthy" for the children. It was probably both.
A midday visit to school found the teachers swaddled in puffy jackets hovering around space heaters. Soft scarves were a hit as a teacher-Christmas gift one year.
But there was difference between the Italians and 'foreigners.'
Buddy's American classmate Piper had an internal heating system. The toe-head girl rarely wore jackets - or scarves, winter boots, and ear-covering wool hats looking ready for the ski-slopes like the Italian children. This deeply troubled her Italian teachers. They'd ask her mother "Where's her jacket!?" while my friend confidently responded with a sly smile, "She's fine." And she was. My children would be only half as bundled as the Italian children, but compared to our bare-armed American friend, they escaped critique. All the concern was concentrated on little Piper and the shorts she smartly wore with cute tights.
We commit wintry sins in other ways with our American habits. My landlord scolds me incessantly if - gosh forbidden - he catches my daughter with wet hair. Or no socks. It's why she suffers from asthma and body-convulsing coughs, he declares.
I confess, I have adapated. I only rarely let the kids out of the bathroom without a little blow-drying. (Last night I almost cringed sending them to bed with wet heads, but it was too late and I was too tired.) Each year we buy a new pair of house slippers that I hound the children over incessantly. "Go get your slippers!" Where are your slippers?" "Why don't you have your slippers on?!?"
We inevitably show up at the 7am bus stop looking ready for a winter storm compared to our newly arrived American neighbors. I think she just made it out of her flip-flops a few weeks ago! (Ha! love ya' neighbor Lori!)
I wear scarves indoors. I type with wool gloves missing their fingertips. This morning I duct-taped the soles of my favorite pair of fluffy house boots. My cold toes can't live without them. Our collection of jackets, scarves, boots and gloves has grown exponentially, one for each weather condition (rain/cold, rain only, freezing cold, light breeze). They have taken over the flight of stairs to my basement lining the wall like family photos.
The fact is: there is no escaping the cold here. Humidity is higher in the winter than summer. The chilling air feels wet. Houses lack insulation and the dampness envelops you. Floors of tile are as cold as ice. There is no fluffy wall-to-wall carpet to greet your morning feet. Often my house is colder inside than out. Fires aren't just for effect. Oil and electricity is expensive. Heat is only run when at home and only in the rooms that are occupied. People here simply cannot afford American habits of short sleeves indoors, cranked-up heat and bare feet, whether they believe the cold air causes ailments or not.
My neck never aches -- maybe I have not been here long enough to take on Italian ailments, only a few of their habits. You should see my collection of scarves!
How to avoid getting 'hit by air' in Italy
Many Italians, it seems, are prone to a particularly wide range of winter illnesses, helped apparently by an in-depth knowledge of human anatomy.
More than a decade living in this country has led me to a shocking conclusion. Being Italian is bad for your health.
As winter draws in, those around me are suffering from a range of distinctly Italian ailments, that make our limited British colds and flus sound as bland as our food.
As I cycle around the medieval streets of my adoptive home town of Bologna, I smile to myself, marvelling at the fact that I am still wearing a light-weight jacket at this time of year.
No translationMy Italian counterparts are less fortunate.
They have their woolly scarves and quilted coats out and are rubbing their necks, complaining of my favourite mystery Italian malady "la cervicale".
"Soffro di cervicale (I suffer from cervicale)," they tell me, making it sound particularly serious.
Most people over the age of 30 seem to have the condition, but I am still at a loss as to what exactly it is and how to translate it.
I have looked it up in the dictionary and found "cervical" - an adjective referring to the cervical vertebrae, those little bones in the back of your neck - but as an ailment, there is simply no English translation. We do not have it!
The British also do not seem to have the sort of exceptional knowledge of their own anatomy which Italians have.
Benefits of ignorance
Soon after I moved here, I remember a friend telling me he was not feeling very well. "My liver hurts," he said.
I have since been assured by doctors that you cannot actually feel your liver, but what really struck me was the fact that he knew where his liver was.
We British, in contrast, are a nation staggeringly ignorant of our anatomy.
Italians can also tell you if the pain is in their stomach or intestine - and can even specify whether it is colic or colitis - but to us it is all just "tummy ache".
Yet although I should feel embarrassed about my inability to point out the exact location of my gall bladder, I am not.
Why? Because I think it makes me healthier.
After years of first-hand experience of the delicate Italian constitution, I have come up with a theory about why we British are so much sturdier. If you cannot name it, you cannot suffer from it. If you do not know where it is, it cannot hurt you.
Among my Italian friends I am considered something of an immuno-superhuman.
I can leave the gym sweaty to have my shower at home and not catch a chill en route. I can swim after eating and not get congestion or cramp. I can walk around with wet hair and not get "la cervicale".
I even brag about it. At restaurants I will say: "Let me sit in the draught. I'll be fine. I'm English."
'Mustn't grumble'I ran my theory past a Sicilian psychoanalyst and he said I had a point.
For example, the British do not have a term for a "colpo d'aria". It literally translates as a "hit of air" and seems to be incredibly dangerous for Italians.
They can get one in their eye, their ear, their head or any part of their abdomen.
To avoid getting a colpo d'aria, until at least April, they must never go out without wearing a woollen vest, known as a "maglia della salute" (a shirt of health).
British mums hold their kids' jackets so they will not get hot and sweaty while they run around and play. In contrast, the parks here in Italy are filled with pint-sized, quilted Michelin men, zipped up to their noses to stop the air getting in and hitting them.
Italians are brought up to be afraid of these health risks, while our ignorance of their very existence makes us strong and fearless.
It is a question of etiquette too.
We are a nation that "mustn't grumble", trained from an early age that the only answer to "How are you?" is "Fine, thank you."
Our vocabulary reflects this. Whether we have had a cold or spent six weeks in intensive care, we will tell you we have been "a bit poorly".
'Change of season'But last week I experienced a moment of panic. I woke up feeling weak and nauseous.
What if that cultural difference was actually contagious?
What if years in the country had changed my constitution and I too was suffering from another common Italian health hazard, "the change of season"?
I tried to convince myself that lack of sleep was to blame, but I was not certain.
Later that day, I bumped into a neighbour and confessed that I was feeling "a bit poorly".
"Ooh," she said, looking concerned. "I went to the doctor yesterday and he told me there's a 48-hour stomach flu going around."
Then her face brightened up. "But don't worry, you're English so it'll only last 24 hours for you!"
And suddenly - superhuman status restored - I felt a whole lot better.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011 at 09:41AM |
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