Buongiorno_random shot for a good day

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8DNwaojAJ18

Italian Recorded Vote_Mr Senator & Il Ritorno di Cagliostro

Somebody said today was an important day. For some reason my brain keeps thinking today is just one of those days.
I think of Shakespeare and his Much Ado About Nothing, but - to be honest! - I think of its Italian translation Molto rumore per nulla. It makes more sense to me.

I woke up early and one of the first things we mentioned was the recorded vote that is going to take place very soon today in Italy. Alessandro said  something like it was unbelievable there was need for a vote to establish that a senator, officially guilty, should leave the senate. He had a good point. People compare Mr Senator to Jesus Christ because of this vote, forgetting the reason why they are about to vote!

I don't know why, but the philosopher who usually lives in me waiting for a moment of glory this morning was particularly sleepy. It happened then that only a memory popped up in my mind so, followed by a smile and a quick research on you tube, we ended up laughing while watching a scene of "Il ritorno di Cagliostro" by Cipri and Maresco.

I was thinking in dialect! We don't need a recorded vote, we just need Cipri and Maresco!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NBQT86LZ-s0

...Quiet morning...Quid Pro Quo

 

 

 

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cMdddre-WIA

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Italian Siesta_

I think I am cute and smart in a balanced measure and because of that  I totally agree with those who state that to understand a woman's brain, you need a PhD in Psychology.

I started noticing that I am that type of person who, on certain topics, doesn't like to hear the truth.

-Oh, I have lots of wrinkles!
-No, you don't! You are just thirty-five and those you have are fine.
- No, I don't have wrinkles. I just had a bad night. I need to rest!

>>>

-  I think I have some cellulite now! Oh my God, that is awful!
-  It is not cellulite, Claudia. Let me see, where is it?
- What?
- Cellulite?
- No, I just need to do some sport! I don't have cellulite!

>>>

- Do I buy the blue or black Moleskine?
-Why don't you buy the black? You have already the blue one.
-Isn't it so cute? The yellow one?
-So, pick it!
-Ok. Got it. Blue! It matches with my eyes...
- Claudia, your eyes are brown.
-I know. I didn't say they are the same. I said it matched! Why are you so complicated!

For the same reason, I should stop asking questions like: can you tell me something that makes you think of Italians?
As soon as I pronounce that question, I start shaking. I always wonder why those words come out from my mouth with that nice, mellow Italian accent. I feel already sorry for the poor student I am asking to. They are confident, they feel at ease reassured by my smiles and my sentences not too fast, not too slow...they don't know there is only one word I really cannot stand: SIESTA!

The word SIESTA is like a tamper switch to me, the one used in the security system industry to prevent somebody can destroy your alarm system even before the alarm is detected. It bothers me so much that I can actually read my students' lips. As soon as they start with that type of smile which originates the consonant S, I already know. (Smile - Sssss -iesta)

If I asked my Italian friends what the word "siesta" reminds them, I am sure most of them would say Speedy Gonzales. Unless they already migrated to another country, they would never think they are being associated to that hissing word.

Do you remember Speedy? He was not an Italian mouse. He was Mexican! He was wearing a sombrero, not a coppola cap! His friends were playing guitars, not mandolins!

Apparently, it sounds like an Italian, who takes everything easy, after a long lunch doesn't go to work anymore. He goes for a siesta. An Italian day finishes at 2 pm and for that same reason we don't say good afternoon, but we immediately switch from Buongiorno to Buonasera. In the afternoon we are just sleeping!

I know my students, my Canadian friends who say that, don't mean anything bad. And, if I think about it, it is actually interesting to discover how some people can see us.
It doesn't matter if I try to explain that not everybody can have a nap in the afternoon and that, possibly, the people they met were unemployed (struggling with other issues, indeed), retired or 2 years old!
Or even that, when you wake up after a siesta, you have to go back to work where you stay until the end of the day!

Before I tried a couple of times to explain how it worked. Now I smile, I start singing in my mind "Speedy Gonzalez"

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B3vo_R1g7VE

and, while rubbing my cellulite lotion, I think how to make a post for my blog out of this weird thought!

Good Morning...

 

 

 

Getting ready for my Italian class...in the body and soul!

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AfNZfy_zy54

Morning Thoughts____All about some accents and Achilles' heel

-"Why did you move to Canada?"

- How do you like here?

-How comes that you know English?

Three questions and a complex opinion.

I often notice people are astonished when, after perceiving my accent, they found out they can speak normally to me, without slowing down because I can actually understand what they are saying .
I think that a change in the intonation of our voice happens naturally as soon as we realize the person we are talking to comes from a different country.

We scream, we pronounce sentences slower and sometimes we stop conjugating a verb. It sounds like, WHEN YOU BUS WANT, TICKET YOU PAY MONEY!

So basically we alter the structure of a sentence, we select a bunch of important words and we scream, as if screaming out our words could make them go deeper in the other person's auricle.
Why are human beings so awkward sometimes?

- I moved to Canada because we decided it was a nice place to live in, especially for the kids.

- I see. There is no job in Italy, correct?

- (Thinking) I think, I said something different! - (Speaking) Yes, there is a big economic crisis going on right now. But, we moved because we thought it was a good idea. We were working!

- I like Canada. I love when it snows! Cold weather makes me feel alive!

-Yeahhh, I know it is hard the winter here. That is why we often go to Florida. It's ok, don't worry. Once you adjust, you will be fine.

- (Thinking) I think I said I loved cold weather. Cold=Freddo; Caldo=Hot. Did I say "caldo" or "cold"? - (Speaking) I am sure I will be fine!

- I can hear an accent!

-(Thinking) Oh, Good for you! I am glad you can hear perfectly! I can actually hear your accent too! - (Speaking) Yes, You hear an Italian accent. I come from Italy, Sicily. Where do you come from?

-How comes you learnt English in just 3 years?

- (Thinking) Why did you decide I didn't know English before? I COME FROM ITALY, NOT JUPITER! (Speaking) Yeahhhhh, I studied it.

-It's ok, your accent is cute!

- (Did I say it was not ok?)

When you move, this is part of the offer. When you first arrive and you hear you have an accent, for a few seconds, you feel as if you were supposed to justify yourself. As if you were supposed to apologize for that. Or that, if you have an accent, it means you don't know how to speak properly. It suffices a change in the facial expression of the person we are talking to, an eyebrow that moves down against the other one that goes up and we start shaking. One thousands questions pop up in our brain making us wondering what word did we pronounced wrong. We don't realize that, maybe, the other was just thinking about our thoughts. Maybe, one of your beautiful words, made the other person have a sort of epiphany. Why not?

I think this is because we are already going through so many drastic changes that finally we are too tired to be logical.

After a while, little by little, you start feeling part of the system. You start hearing accents too, you learn how to distinguish accents and, the best part, you start hearing the accents of Canadians too. They just don't know they have one! It is not a survival battle anymore, we just realize that was curiosity. "Being curious" not necessarily means "bad intentions".

We should do ourselves a favor being nicer to ourselves!


On the other hand, being in a beautiful, welcoming country doesn't mean the population consists of beautiful people only. I start feeling some people need to think you are suffering, you are in pain, you don't like what they don't, and it is not acceptable the idea you are actually going in a different direction. Initially, this type of behaviour was bothering me a lot. I thought it was a sort of injustice. Then, I realized we all have our own Achilles' heel.  And, that's why I started keeping going when somebody is clearly not listening to my words.

Why should my Italian accent be the one that makes them realize there is no light at the end of that tunnel?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Le-3MIBxQTw

Call Center_Noon Thoughts

Now I know what it is!

Our lives are full of compromises. We like it or not, this is what it is. Now, obviously, there are different types of compromises. Some of them should never be accepted, some others are just necessary.

When you move to a different country, some of those compromises pop up like mushrooms after a prolonged rain. I should considered myself lucky, being part of that generation of immigrants who can count on the existence of technology. This helps a lot when one of the compromises you have to accept is that, if you want/need to move, you cannot have the entire family with you.

We are lucky now because we have laptops, smartphones, what’s up, Skype, etc…

However, sometimes, because of my own nature I wonder if that is true. In another post I mentioned I hate any type of dependency. Technology is included, of course!

Some days, I have the impression my house is like a call center, a continuous noise, hubbub, all around the house. Instead of four people, we suddenly are ten. Like gremlins (do you remember?), faces are popping up everywhere. I turn around still looking for my coffee and I hear people chatting, playing, crying, laughing, and arguing about different things…but, NOBODY is physically there. Only a laptop, a tablet, a screen that thanks to the magic of technology turned into a huge face. You can actually play with that face. You can make it smaller, put it in a corner, and make it disappear. The voice is still there though!

 Don’t take me wrong, please! It is that this is who I am. Sometimes, especially when something is a little bit sad, my brain tends to turn the situation in a sort of commix. A funeral, for example! I was almost dying because of my laughs at my grandpa’s funeral. Is that funny? Not at all! My brain seems to refuse to behave!

Some days I think if you were in the same city, you wouldn’t spend so much time talking to that person. Not because of lack of love, but because I think this is part of the human nature to fear the distance. It is understandable, of course. Psychologically speaking you are aware that you cannot hug, kiss, and touch that person if you decide you want to.

 

Having said that, I remember one day I decided I didn’t want to use Skype. I was just tired. I needed to rest for one day only. I wanted to hear from my family, but not in that moment. Skype started ringing…I ignored it. What’s up started whistling the way an annoying guy would do with a beautiful girl – Hey, do you Skype today?, Are u busy?, Are you sleeping? – and you pretend to ignore it. Silence, finally!

Your house phone rings.

-          Hallo?

-          …pause…

-          Hallo?

-          (A voice as far as Mars can be) Hey! Were you sleeping? Are you going out? Can we meet today? In five minutes?

-          Suuuuureeeeeeee

It was my mom calling from Skype to my house phone because - God bless him! -  a genius invented an option that gives you the ability to call even a cell phone!

I love you Mom! I love my mom! I love all those little faces popping up from my laptop...not constantly, though! So, please nobody be offended!

Phase 3_Landscape and Happiness

Today it is just a morning thought I want to share.

 

 

 

A new phase in my immigration process has started. When I first arrived, I had often to go beyond my shyness or uncertainty when I was expected to do important things: talk to strangers remembering to smile, go to offices to have some documents issued, meet teachers, trainers, students, etc…

In this process, at least for me, a big impact was represented by the land itself. The discovery of the territory even for basic things (community center, school, Wall-Mart, etc…) was psychologically speaking challenging for me. I did it, of course, because my sense of self-discipline usually surpasses my fears.

Three years and a half later, heading north with my car, I suddenly realized that for the very first time I was just excited of going somewhere I didn’t know. With my printed Google map itinerary beside me, the music on, a grey sky and some air chilly enough to preannounce the approach of cold season, it was nothing less than pure genuine happiness!

 

The interesting fact is that you don’ t realize that little by little you are reaching that point where something that makes you feel uncertain, apparently out of the blue, becomes easy, natural, nice and actually exciting. This is part of the process as well and it’s something I like to share with any new comer I meet here. Be confident! Amazing results are right behind a corner waiting for you. It is just a matter to find the corner first, though!

 

 

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T1tOHz2l0qE

 

 

 

A Santuzza from Palermo to Woodbridge (English)

Everything started in Palermo, on Mount Pellegrino, known all over Europe thanks to J.W Goethe who, in his Italian Journey, described it as: «a massive rock, wider than tall […] its beautiful shape exceeds any possible description […] ».

In the hearts of the people in Palermo, Mount Pellegrino is more simply the dwelling of the Patron Saint of the city.

I was about eight years old when, at the sunrise of a warm September morning, my mother woke me up to experience that any person in Palermo would try at least once in his/her life: l’acchianata (the ascent) to Saint Rosalia’s place. The ascent to the sanctuary on foot, on bare feet, on one’s knees, or walking with children on shoulders.

 At the foot of the mountain that overlooks Palermo, where an ancient path paved with square stones begins, groups of people were standing to start the pilgrimage to give thanks or look for the grace of their beloved and powerful Santuzza, Rosalia. Dawn was, and certainly still is, the best time of the day to start the pilgrimage, considering that in the beginning of September the temperature in Sicily can be still sweltering. That rise, at the age of eight, indelibly marked my life as a Palermo native.  

It is not a matter of faith any longer. It is just the desire to give voice to your soul. As demonstration of this, the sanctuary and Saint Rosalia are now considered by the Tamil communities in Palermo, both the catholic and Hindu ones, a place where they can take care of their spirituality.

The rise is challenging and the best way to tackle it is to be focused on your spirit’s thoughts. L’acchianata in my life has become a symbol for sharing. It is not the destination important, but the journey. Waiting for me at the peak, the warmth of a friendly and smiling face that in my mind always recalled a mother's smile, who with her eyes and a barely perceivable smile, tells her child: “Well done!”

 

But what does Santa Rosalia have to do with Toronto? This would be a question to ask Mr Ferrante, native of Palermo like myself, migrated to Canada like myself, who, for grace received, decided to pay homage to his beloved Santuzza organizing, at his own expenses, the Festino of Santa Rosalia, in Woodbridge!

 The discovery for my part of the perfect reproduction of the Saint’s statue in Toronto was purely incidental during one of my visits to the city. Back then my idea for a possible migration to Canada was still far off. Of course, I was astonished and amazed by Mr. Ferrante and by how the love for our roots together with deep devotion and gratitude feelings could drive us to such a big display of affection.

A Palermo native prays to the Santuzza all year long, although he celebrates her officially only twice a year. The first one with the acchianata in September; the second one, in July. It is said that the great Fest in July were organized back in 1624 after many people survived to a terrible plague which afflicted the city.

Should you be in Palermo on the 14th and 15th of July, I would recommend you the so called Festino di Santa Rosalia. To have an idea of how deep and entrenched is this devotion in the natives, it is sufficient to think that last year the 389^th edition of the event took place. For about four-hundred years so, the old city center of Palermo, once a year, has been turned into a huge open air theatre.

U’ Fistinu (Il Festino, Big Fest), in the Palermo natives’ expectation as well as the one of any tourists who crowd the streets of the old city, has to rock, move, results in an explosion of joy, lights, music, colors and, of course, food and beverages. A real Palermo native would say: “Santu veni, festa fai!” (Saint who comes, it’s essential to celebrate). From a culinary point of view, this turns into a triumph of street food (and not only), where different things will be served, such as: càlia e simenza (roasted chick peas and salted pumpkin seeds), ‘I babbaluci (snails sautéed with garlic and parsil), u’ mulune (water melon), pani chi paneddi e cazzilli (bun with a square mad out fried chick peas flour and water, and deep fried potato croquettes), sfinciuni (lo sfincione, a sort of soft pizza garnished with loads of onion), and many other things.

Won’t it be possible to organize a trip to Sicily next July? Never mind, worst comes to worst there is always Woodbridge!




Suggested link: http://festinodisantarosalia.it/389/

 

Una Santuzza da Palermo a Woodbridge (ITALIANO)

Tutto ha origine a Palermo, su Monte Pellegrino reso famoso nel resto d’Europa da J.W. Goethe il quale, nel suo Viaggio in Italia,  lo descrisse come: «grande massa di roccia, più largo che alto […] la sua bella forma è al di sopra di ogni descrizione […]».

Nel cuore dei palermitani, tuttavia, Monte Pellegrino è più semplicemente la dimora della Santa patrona della città.

Avevo circa otto anni quando all’alba di una mattina di settembre venni svegliata da mia madre per fare quell’esperienza che ogni palermitano vivrà almeno una volta nella vita: l’acchianata a Santa Rosalia: la salita a piedi, scalzi, in ginocchio, o con bimbi sulle spalle al santuario.

Alle falde della montagna che sovrasta Palermo, laddove un antico viottolo lastricato di pietre quadrate comincia, gruppi di persone si erano date appuntamento per rendere o chiedere grazie alla loro amata e potente Santuzza, Rosalia. L’alba era, e certamente rimane, il momento migliore della giornata per affrontare il pellegrinaggio, considerato che agli inizi di settembre il caldo in Sicilia può essere ancora afoso. Quella salita, sin dall’età di otto anni, segnò indelebilmente la mia vita da palermitana.

Non è più una questione di credo o meno. Si tratta semplicemente di voler dar voce al proprio spirito. A dimostrazione di ciò, il fatto che nel santuario e in Santa Rosalia le comunità Tamil di Palermo, sia cristiana che induista,  abbiano trovato qualcosa che gli consenta di prendersi cura della propria spiritualità.

La salita è impegnativa e un buon modo per affrontarla è quello di concentrarsi sui pensieri dell’anima. L’acchianata per me è divenuta simbolo di condivisione. Non è  la meta importante, ma il viaggio. Ad attendermi, tuttavia, il calore di un volto amico, sorridente che nella mia mente ha sempre rievocato quello tipico di una mamma, che con gli occhi e un sorriso appena accennato dice al figlio: “Ben fatto!”

 

Ma cosa c’entra Santa Rosalia con Toronto? Questo bisognerebbe chiederlo al sig. Ferrante, palermitano come me, emigrato in Canada come me, il quale a seguito di una grazia ricevuta ha deciso di rendere omaggio alla sua amata Santuzza organizzando a proprie spese il Festino di Santa Rosalia, a Woodbridge!

 La scoperta della riproduzione perfetta della Santa a Toronto è stata del tutto casuale in occasione di una mia vacanza in Canada, quando ancora era lontanissima l’idea di una possibile emigrazione. Rimasi ovviamente colpita e affascinata dalla figura del signor Ferrante e da quanto l’amore per le proprie origini e una profonda devozione e gratitudine possano spingerci a grandi manifestazioni.

Il palermitano, la Santuzza, la prega tutto l’anno ma la festeggia in modo ufficiale ben due volte. La prima volta con l’acchianata di settembre; la seconda volta in luglio. I grandi festeggiamenti di luglio, si dice, furono organizzati a seguito del sopravvivere di molti palermitani a una peste abbattutasi sulla città nel lontano 1624.

 Se doveste trovarvi in Sicilia, a Palermo, il 14 e 15 luglio vi segnalo certamente il cosiddetto Festino di Santa Rosalia.  Per dare un’idea di quanto profonda e radicata sia questa devozione nei palermitani, basti pensare al fatto che lo scorso luglio si è tenuta la trecentottantanovesima edizione dell’evento. Da quasi quattrocento anni dunque, il centro storico di Palermo, una volta l’anno, si trasforma in un affollatissimo teatro all’aperto.

U’ Fistinu (Il Festino, grande festa), nell’aspettativa dei palermitani e dei numerosi turisti che in quei giorni affollano le vie del centro storico, deve stravolgere, commuovere, risultare in un tripudio di gioia, luci, musica,  colori. Essendo in Sicilia, ovviamente,  cibo e bevande rappresentano ingredient fondamentali per la riuscita dei festeggiamenti. In dialetto si dice: “Santu veni, festa fai!” (santo che arriva, bisogna festeggiare).  Da un punto di vista culinario tutto ciò si trasforma in un tripudio di cibo da strada (e non solo), nel quale si alterneranno, càlia e simenza (ceci abbrustoliti e semi di zucca salati), ‘I babbaluci (le lumache sbollentate, servite con olio, aglio, pepe e sale), u’ mulune (l’anguria), pani chi paneddi e cazzilli (pane con panelle e crocchette) e sfinciuni (lo sfincione, pizza dall'impasto soffice e guarnita con moltissima cipolla).

Non sarà possibile organizzare un viaggio in Sicilia il prossimo luglio? Poco importa, male che vada c’è sempre Woodbridge!