It's a matter of...food!

 

Being an Italian myself, I am often being associated to food (il cibo). I notice among the people I meet there is the tendency to consider an Italian as a person who: si gode la vita , grida and gesticola, for some unexplainable reason keeps voting Berlusconi, wear a scarf even in Summer and, of course, an Italian is a person who lives for food, and not thanks to it.
 Let's put it in this way, we should always try to escape from any type of generalisation or stereotypes.


Are we Italians really so obsessed  with food? My first answer is NO. My second answer is...Of course we are!!!!
Even if we were not, we wouldn't like to disappoint who really believes that.
Because, we care! :-)
I love to see the surprise in the eyes of my interlocutors when I state that I don't like pasta and not even gelato. For goodness sake! Please, don't say "gelaDo" and "spagheDi" with that "D"! Would you like to hear that one of the symbol of Toronto is the CN Dower? Or, that the Skydome should now be called SkyTome? "D" is "D" and 'T" is "T". They're cousins, not twins!
My apologies for this drift. It is part of my personality to get excited when I want to prove my point.
Do I like pasta? Yes, I do. Do I feel the need for pasta every day, at least once a day which means 365 times a year? No, I definitively don't.
To be honest with you, I am not sure if that depends on the fact that I hate any type of dependence or addiction. It is already hard for me to accept that my life depends on oxygen and maybe this is one of the reason why I am claustrophobic! :-)
The types of pasta I love mainly derive from ancient regional traditions, typical from the poor class of the society and later lifted up to a higher rank.
Italian cooking, in my opinion (and not only), cannot be considered as part of a single, uniform tradition. Because of the history of Italy itself, its typicalness depends mainly on the coexistence of regional traditions.
One of my favourite type of pasta is called Pasta ca muddica atturrata (Pasta with toasted breadcrumbs). In Sicily, originally, breadcrumbs was used instead of cheese for economic reasons. Now, it is often one of the main ingredients for many recipes. Its name is in Sicilian and if I tried to translate it into Italian, I can guarantee you it would lose right away even its wonderful taste.
Are you not a chef? Never mind! This is one of the best and fastest pasta ever (Spaghetti with Ketchup don't count!).

La ricetta

We need Muddica atturrata first

Gr. 200 di pangrattato, 2 acciughe dissalate e diliscate, olio extravergine di oliva, sale, zucchero, pepe.
Put 4 tablespoon of olive oil in a pan and slowly let the anchovies melting. Then, add your breadcrumbs and, mixing it continuously, let it roast paying attention it doesn't get burnt. When it reaches a golden colour, remove from the fire, add a teaspoon of sugar, just a little bit of salt and black pepper. Let it cool down.

Now let's concentrate on the actual pasta...

Gr. 400 di spaghetti o linguine, 2 spicchi d’aglio, gr.200 di muddica atturrata, olio extravergine di oliva, sale, pepe, prezzemolo tritato.

Place 2 crushed cloves of garlic into a pan with half of a glass of olive oil and let it fry over low heat until the colour turns to gold.
In boiling and salted water cook your past. Within the first 2 minutes, stir to keep the pasta from sticking.  Let it cook until it is al dente. Once ready, drain it and mix with the oil and garlic. Finally, add your muddica atturrata and, if you like it (I don't), some parsley.

Buon appetito!

Un espresso, per favore! Immigration and communication

You should never start a sentence with the word “no”, unless you really mean that! That is one of the first rules I learnt in Canada and, to be really honest, I am still working on it!

In front of something she doesn't like, an hypothetical exactly identical to me woman named Claudia would say something like, "No, I don't like it at all. I would say it is really awful and we should do something different. The reason why I don't like it is because I think it would be nicer...bla...bla"

This is totally different from what a completely integrated woman whose name is also Claudia, what a coincidence!!!!, would say. The integrated one would definitely say something like, "This is very interesting and noticeable. I would say actually fantastic! Definitively similar to what I was looking for...Would you be so nice to show me some other alternatives? Something just a little bit different that maybe would have a....bla, bla..."

As you can see the things in common between the 2 scenarios are only the 2 "bla, bla..."

Communication and Immigration is another essential topic to deal with. You move to another country with your 20, 30, 40 years of life experience somewhere. You are quite sure about the basic rules of communication because you haven't read yet that if in Italy when you speak to someone to make eye contact is fundament in a conversation, if you are in Japan you shouldn't because that is considered a sign of not politeness. Or, for example, you are almost sure that if you are asked with the question, “How are you?” the person who is asking you, really wants to know it.

Day after day, observing people’s reactions, you start learning interesting things and promptly all the things made sense until one second before stop making sense, or at least stop to be so certain. I am not saying that in a bad or good way. I am just saying that because it happened to me a couple of times. Sometimes my way of thinking needed to be reviewed, some others looked even nicer than before.

When I started going out, I remember I was quite impressed by the fact that people working in stores, restaurants, anywhere,  were asking, “Hi! How are you?”  I didn’t expect that! The first times, I remember I stopped at the question coming from a smiling face and, trying to be as much Canadian as possible,  I  answered, “Hi! I am well thanks! And how are youuuuu?”

The odd change on my interlocutor face made me think there was something wrong. Maybe, it was just my accent, wasn’t it?  After a while I did realise that the question “how are you?” doesn’t require an answer. This is not bad and not good. This is just different. If you ask an Italian how he/she is doing (“Ciao, come stai?”), be ready my friend to listen to a long story. You will know how  the night before was compared to the previous one, something about the dinner and then about an amazing pizzeria where you can eat an astonishing Margherita. And on that topic, you will receive a complete report about how many types of Pizza you can find. Finally, after at least ten minutes of soliloquy your turn will come. You'd better try to do your best and avoid to say just "not too bad"!

After one month I realised all that and now I laugh while driving my car I remember some of those faces.

Tim Horton is also part of this topic. My husband's and my first 200 coffees at Tim Horton were everything except what we were expecting to receive.

"Hi, how are you? What would you like to order?"

"A coffee, please"

"What size? Small, Medium,Largeextralarge?" (the speed was accelerating dangerously)

"Yes...small?"

"Milkorcream?"

"Excuse me?"

"milkorcream, do you want milkorcream?

"Yes...milk?" (you start being scared...)

"Sugar?Wouldyoulikesoemthingonyourcoffee...chocolatecreamorsomehtingthatmaybeIamnot

sayingbutyouknowwehave?"

At this point we both were completely lost, overwhelmed by a feeling of frustration. Actually, something between frustration and incredulity.

I remember a couple of times I was heading back to my car staring to a huge cup of coffee that tasted like vanilla and was loaded with cream, too sweet. Or another day when my original request was an "ice cup" and I ended up with a cup with some watery coffee and some floating ice cubes. To not mention the collection of trays in our car until we were able to recognise the word "tray" and became confident enough to say "NO, THANK YOU!"

See how different things can be?

If you ask an Italian how he/she is doing, you will get a novel. On the other hand, if you go to Italy and you ask for a coffee, you just get an espresso!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Immigration & Technology_From Vulcania to Alitalia

My first memory of the word "immigration" takes me back in time, at the age of six and, in an awkward way, it is strictly connected to the word Cannella (Cinnamon).  I remember the smell of that spice trespassing a small crowd of people surrounding a big suitcase overflowing with candies and sparkling useless, but attractive things. My grandma had just arrived from her trip to a far Country called America, to  a place she named Broccolin (Brooklyn) where one of her brothers had moved a while before without telling anybody. A place where apparently it was already possible to buy some chewing gum with that lovely, spicy taste. It had been very hard for her to find him and I remember adults talking about specialised agencies helping people to find relatives all over the world. Internet, Google and Skype were just utopias even though I am not that old... those were immigrants of the late 50s, early 60s.
That generation came back to my life once again in 2008 when my husband's family,  and so I, had to bid  farewell to Nonna Titti. When a member of the family passes away  there is always a sad moment when other people's memories disclose into your hands trying to find a new place to live in. This is Heritage.

Handling those memories needs a special care because it is easy to be trapped in an odd perception that makes you feel guilty of profanation. Think about it. When we are alive some people think they know us very well (I am thinking of friends and families). So do we about them! To some other strangers or simply acquaintances we are just funny, odious, arrogant, happy and so on. Is that possible?
When we die, suddenly, our lives become like an open secret diary with the only exception that we cannot argue anymore and people cannot use our own words against us. Unless they are reading our will. :-)  Probably, this is the reason why I have a blog now, instead of a personal diary. I prefer to share my thoughts now even if some of them are not popular, amazing, conventional or just acceptable.
 Nonna Titti's farewell brought me to Canada. Among amazing yellowish pictures portraying a Palermo in black and white, there were some taken at the Harbour. A big ship in the background, Vulcania, a family picture, tears and handkerchief, love and pain for an island to leave and the uncertainty of a future that had to be better to give a sense to that farewell.
We spent nights watching those pictures and more than one time I was just crying overwhelmed with the utmost respect to those people I didn't know. There were both sorrow and pride in my heart.
In those pictures that Nonna Titti saved year after year, there was the story of an Immigration and page after page the growth of a family with wedding, new babies, their new lives, their dialect, their pride...

Finally, it was 2010. It was March 2010 and another family was taking some historical pictures. This time everything was happening at the airport. The Vulcania gave way to a plane and a mother with her 4 years old son and 14 month old daughter was being hugged by friends, crying brothers and sisters, fathers. I turned my back holding as much as I could Maia's stroller. Alessandro was waiting for us in Canada. I felt guilty for one long second. I was taking away my kids from the love of their family and the paradox was that I was doing that to guarantee them something more. It's hard to explain. Suddenly, I saw my mother's green eyes. Her strength, her discipline, her courage. Her words saying: "I am your mother and to let you go is one of the hardest thing I am asked to accept. If I were you, I would do exactly the same thing. You are doing the right thing! Remember, the RIGHT THING!"

Thank God, immigration is now different. We have Skype, What's up, Picasa, etc...Our parents travel. They come here to visit us and like a very Italian would do, they bring us food. I know it is not to feed us. That is Heritage, a treasure to pass to my kids without waiting for the last farewell, but taking advantage of what technology has donated to a 2010 Italian immigrant family to Canada.