As we have a long layover in Toronto Airport on our way to
Saskatoon, perhaps a few reflections on Italy and Italians would not be amiss.
At least it will be helpful to write a few thoughts while they are still fresh
in our minds.
Our flight to Toronto was one hour late leaving Rome’s
Leonardo da Vinci Airport. Our Air Canada aircraft, an Airbus, accommodates just over three hundred passengers. Not surprisingly, the waiting area
at Gate G 8 had seating for perhaps 30 or 40 people. The result, when it became
apparent that the flight was going to be delayed, was like an absurd mosh pit.
Fortunately, we were on the perimeter and avoided the jostling and evil looks
when passengers intruded into others’ personal space. Interestingly, there was
no announcement explaining the delay—and certainly no apology. Air Canada's motto; Never explain, never apologize! Air Canada
wonders why it has so much trouble making a profit. The explanation is self-evident. The experience reminds one
of the heydays of the notoriously passenger-unfriendly Russian airline Aeroflot
when the officials simply opened the plane’s doors and it was every man, woman
or child for themselves as people raced across the tarmac, up the stairs to the
aircraft and attempted to seize empty seats. When all the seats were occupied,
the doors were slammed shut and the hapless passengers who were not so fleet of
foot returned to the departure lounge, hoping for better luck the next time a
plane appeared.
Our experience wasn’t quite so grim, but it was certainly an
eye-opener that passenger comfort seemed so low on the airline’s priority list.
On the bright side, we had one less hour to wait at Toronto
Airport to catch our connecting flight to Saskatoon.
Our driver to the airport from the Rome hotel this morning had a
heavy foot, but not nearly so heavy as Sandro who met us on July 6. It’s
amazing that the streets of Rome aren’t littered with wrecked cars. In many
instances, there are no lanes painted on the streets, and cars and motorbikes
weave in and out of imaginary lanes—of course, without signaling! Applying
makeup, texting and talking on cell phones is a common practice.
On the subject of mobile phones, everyone seems to have
one—but Italians mostly talk on them, not text.
Overall, the Italians are very polite, kind people. Everyone seems
delighted to see their friends—and even strangers—and the resulting
conversation is almost always lively and animated. When someone says Buongiorno or Buona sera it is genuine.
On the few occasions when we shopped in fruit and vegetable
markets, we discovered that there is a protocol. You never touch the
produce—instead, you point at it and tell the merchant how many or how much you
want. The assumption is that everything
is fresh and wonderful—hence, squeezing the fruit is an implied insult that the
merchant would sell anything less than perfect produce. The only people who get
away with handling the fruit are elderly ladies who choose their fruit and
vegetables with great care. Italians seem to have learned not to cross the matriarchs.
It seems that many Italians smoke. The streets are littered
with cigarette butts. When regional trains stop at stations, smokers rush for
the exits to catch a few puffs before the train pulls out of the station.
Mostly, they stand in the doorway, unintentionally impeding passengers who are
trying to get onto the train. By the way, Italian
trains are very good: they are quite cheap, most often punctual, and run
frequently. The high speed ones are a pure pleasure!
We were told by a very scholarly guide in Siena that
Italians hate three things: air-conditioning , clothes dryers (hence laundry
hanging from balconies all over the place), and ice cubes. Our experience with the non-existent air
conditioning at the Florence apartment confirms the former.
Italians seem to revere elderly people and babies. We saw
several instances where grandparents on the street doted over their beloved
grandkids. Italians also love dogs. Everywhere we saw people walking dogs at
all times of the day.
The hill towns are jewels. Our experience was limited
(Cortona, Siena, San Gimignano, the five villlages in the Cinque Terre, and
Orvieto). Vehicle traffic is strictly restricted in the towns. Visitors with
cars must leave them outside the walls and walk into town. The towns are walker
friendly—although the steep hills and staircases are a test of one’s endurance
on hot days. Both Siena and Orvieto have sets of escalators that help to get
people from the parking lots to the town above.
The inhabitants regard tourists with bemused expressions but
genuine hospitality (not surprising since tourism is a major prop of Italy’s
economy). Their warmth made
communication possible when we spoke only English and they spoke only Italian.
We sensed that even our clumsy attempts at Italian were appreciated and always
resulted in a friendly exchange. The least helpful people we met were employees
in the tourist information office in Rome!
It should be no surprise that Italy produces such great wine
and so much of it. During our journeys through Tuscany and Umbria endless
hillsides were lined with beautiful rows of grape vines. When there weren’t grapes, the
hills had groves of olive trees. Both the wine and the olive oil are splendid.
A series of storms along the eastern USA and Canada had a cascade
effect on air traffic in Toronto, causing flights to be delayed or cancelled.
Our flight to Saskatoon was 90 minutes late leaving, but the pilot must have
put the jets into overdrive because we were only 60 minutes late into
Saskatoon. It was 2:30 am by the time we
got home to Outlook. Because our biological clocks have not reset, we were
awake at 6:00, and out weeding the garden by 7:00 a.m. I imagine we’ll need an
early bedtime tonight.
Our dog Quinton was glad to see us, although he is always a bit
standoffish when we leave him for extended periods—a sort of “Now, tell me
again, who are you guys?” attitude. Cathy Morrow looked after Quinton while we were away. He loves being with her. Quinton spent his mornings at the golf course enjoying morning toast and coffee with Cathy, chasing rabbits and otherwise having fun. I'm afraid he finds us rather dull company by comparison--although he is far too polite to say so. After all, he knows who pays for his dog food and treats--and his overpriced haircuts!
Thanks to Carrie, we arrived home to find our yard and vegetable garden in wonderful shape!
Calendula grows on its own. |
Lots of lush green in the vegetable garden. |
We have healthy basil plants for bruschetta al pomodoro. |
Everything looks good. As much as we loved Italy, it is good to be home among familiar surroundings. |