ITALIANS

Plurally singularly individual and full of hot blooded fiery passions for music and dance, for heart felt songs and operas, and at the same time they are so warm hearted, so human. I have been watching the series of Comissario Montalbano, which is set on Sicilia and the wonderfully human policeman, almost taking the role of psychologist and helper of the people, makes a strong contrast to the policemen of USA and other parts of Europe. So many wonderful details of Italian life, the fast banter between such good friends, the gesticulating, the clothes and the settings with the old fashioned furniture, tall doored rooms or stone floored kitchens, the dog like a mat in the hot sun at the door, the ever present wonderful food which Saldo the Comissario eats with such relish at times, is an ever present ingredient in their lives. Yes Italy has a special atmosphere. And when I first visited it, I don't know if my feelings were coloured by the knowledge of its past, particularly its art, but there I HAD to take off my duffle coat and drag it up the double-sided staircase, as I felt part of the character and grandeur of such a place of tradition. Yes you Italians win the hearts of all, your humour is famous as are so many of the italian performers around the world. In all the arts, furniture design, architecture, you name it, cars oops, I nearly left them out. And the list goes on and on. Viva Italia, La Dolce Vita is there in that beautiful country. Saluti, cin cin, we love you. Annuccia. P.S. I like the Etruscans too.

My lover before I met my husband was born in Italy. Damn if I can remember the city. I'm pretty sure it was northern, I remember his saying all the floors were marble in his home... cheaper than wood. Anyhow his name was Ileno. I didn't like him at first tho my brother kept trying to fix me up with him. But oh, the love affair we had! (He didn't give up!) My heart orgasmed with him. Yum! ~A "...when it agrees with reason and it will benefit one and all, then accept it and live by it." ~ Buddha

And don't we know it, when 19 years old and we young English girls arrived in Italy, all those young studs thought we had just come to be vanquished, dreamt about and swooned over. On the train between Milano and B( dimenticare-Etruscan town) the one I have mentioned before singing in perfect English otherwise understanding none-"You are my destiny..." leaning on the doorway of the railway carriage looking soulfully at me with an intentional kind of intensity. Next train sitting on the polished benches of old wood, I sat down and immediately there were a crowd of young boys all around me drooping and drooling over me like a swarm of hungry bees, i didn't quite know how to be, but as usual was myself and chatted easily while feeling, I wonder what they are doing here!! Then in Ravenna the young boys eyed me and all the other girls in the streets who walked along on the loose stone pavements in their very high heeled gaits loosing their heels sometimes in the stones, they wore down bit by bit - well I diverse. Then when i did hold the hand of a young Italian in the street he didn't want to be seen to do so, but then he was a shyer type. Then when off to Firenze on my own yet another boy came and spoke to me, but he was interesting and charming. well mannered. Then when i arrived in Firenze--well that's another story!!!!!!!! Then on the way back another boy came and spoke sweet nothings to me all the way back, he came from Livorno and said come and live there for a month extra it will cost you nothing at all, and how tempting that was when I wanted to be in Italy as long as possible, but I declined even with his ardour-loaded(?) words of amore!!! On going to the open air dance floor near the sea, and other places to dance, those Italian boys were not content with dancing rhumbas and sambas etc, no, one had to be glued to their bodies and move very slowly, I was used to ballroom dancing and found this hindered my enjoyment of dancing at all, then not only that but every single boy who danced with me pulled out a tiny photograph of himself for me, as if to make sure I didn't forget his face and,might finally give in to his thoughts. Then there was the fact that I wanted to see Venice, who doesn't, and this local chap a friend of the family I was with invited me to come on his motorbike up the rough stoney road 100 km. bumping and shaking about like a hen on a hot griddle. We stopped for a cognac and a black black miniature coffee, he was hoping- hoping that I would get drunk, but as I was so exhausted from the bruises and bumping I drank, for the very first time my first brandy and it didn't do a thing, even when he stopped not far from the little café on the side of the road and laid down a cloth for us to sit on- no go- I wasn't going to be seduced. So sadly he took me on to Venice, wow what wonders- we had the night booked, giving up our passports to a Signora who didn't question as to why we were having a double room, he said it was to keep it cheaper, but it wasn't, it was with other aims in mind of course- he didn't succeed as I have to feel love for anyone I did anything like that with, so we returned to Ravenna, he a disappointed Italian male and me full of joy at being able to dance alone in Piazza san Marco, he did one more pitch by chanting "Rossingnolo cantare soltanto poco sera.." not right 'scusi- as we sat beside the Gondola's those just beside the Piazza, and the Ducal Palace, and in the sunset he poured his poetic romantic song to me- wow poor man I should perhaps have given in but I was inexperienced in such things then so I didn't even fall for a kiss. I now feel I was a little unfair as he had driven me on those terrible roads all the way to Venice just for me. That mentions a tiny bit of my experiences with those Italian boys there were other episodes but I shall not mention them here!!! So you see it wasn't easy in that den of lovers to walk straight now was it? Ciaou ciaou bambino ...Annuccia "Nessuno credera" and all that, blazing away in the background.