Jan

Everyday Aha Moments in Italy

by Joyce McGreevy on January 21, 2019

Santa Croce and passing trucks in Florence inspire an aha moment about everyday Italian rituals. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Santa Croce inspires. So do the delivery-truck drivers on their daily predawn rounds.
© Joyce McGreevy

Discovering Beauty in Life’s Little Rituals

It’s no revelation to say that icons of awe-inspiring beauty are everywhere in Florence. For some visitors, the rarified aha moments induced by a surfeit of grandeur can even become physically overwhelming.

But as Italian psychologist Piero Ferrucci writes, we can also “discover [beauty] in everyday life: a song heard on the street, a crumbling old wall, the reflections in a puddle.”

The Arno at sunset in Florence Italy inspires an aha moment about life’s little rituals. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

A walk along the Arno at sunset is glorious, but . . .
© Joyce McGreevy

A little dog and its human in Florence, Italy reflect the piaceri piccoli (small pleasures) of everyday life. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

. . . a walk home from the local grocery can also be good for the soul.
© Joyce McGreevy

These are the piaceri piccoli, small pleasures, the everyday aha moments that balance “the exasperating vicissitudes of daily life.” My piaceri piccoli include everyday Italian rituals. Come, I’ll show you.

Let us begin at the end, on an evening when the sky exhibits a variety of blues, like someone choosing among silk scarves. Imagine you are returning from work, expecting to open the door, toss the key, and turn on the news.

Not So Fast—This is Florence

The towering double doors, i portoni, conceal a smaller door, una porta. Extract the proper key, enter the vestibule, and pause to admire the wrought-iron cancello, or gate.

An exterior and interioA portone (grand door) seen from both sides inspires an aha moment about the small pleasures of everyday life in Florence, Italy. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Now you see it, now you don’t: the porta within the portone.
© Joyce McGreevy

It is a sentinel, this cancello. One passes around it, not through, by means of swinging doors. Spingere, says the first door. Tirare, replies the next. This means only “Push, Pull.” But the joy-inducing rhythm makes your mind sing Spingere, tirare. Girare è volare! “Push, pull. To turn is to fly!”

A cancello, or wrought-iron gate in Florence Italy inspires an aha moment about small pleasures and life's little rituals. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Cancello (Italian) and cancel (English) share a common origin. To cancel written text,
one crossed it with a latticework of lines.
© Joyce McGreevy

Now you are in the cortile, a courtyard, where an advisor to Anna di Medici once walked. The apartment complex was formerly one magnificent home, and its beauty includes ancient frescoes. Just as beautiful is how the layout guides you to take steps mindfully.

If you are laden with groceries from Mercato Sant’Ambrogio, a second key opens the narrow elevator. If not, insert a third key into the next cancello. It opens with a satisfying pop.

Press a button to light the lantern. Then mount stone steps that bear the imprint of centuries. At your apartment, brass lions guard the door. Never mind that Florence is one of the safest cities in the world.

A post box and a door knocker in Florence Italy inspire an aha moment about the small pleasures of life's little rituals. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Everyday rituals: it’s not what you do, it’s the way that you do it.
© Joyce McGreevy

Extract two more keys. The lock that lifts an interior metal bar likes to challenge you. When you succeed in turning it, it spits the key upon the floor to keep you humble. The smaller lock is kindly and ushers you in to coziness.

Life’s little ritual of homecoming is now complete. Sei qui—you are here. The world of offices and schedules, traffic and to-do lists is there. And there it stays.

A fresco inspires an aha moment about the pleasures of everyday life in Florence, Italy. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

There’s beauty in the rituals of accomplishment (above), but also
in the rituals of learning one’s craft (below).
© Joyce McGreevy

A young man sketching as a boy looks on inspires an aha moment about everyday Italian rituals in Florence. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

The Daily Dance of Adaptation

A change of environment disrupts our automatic routines. Our response reveals whether we feel invited—or put upon—to try something new. Says Ferrucci, “We can proceed according to the planned itinerary, strenuously trying to make life conform to our expectations, or we can adapt to whatever we meet, and flow without effort.”

Oh, I see: Everyday Italian rituals shed light on life’s little rituals in our own localities. They make us more attentive to the piaceri piccoli that punctuate a day.

Via de' Tornabuoni, Firenze festooned in gold decorations inspires an aha moments Italian rituals of celebration. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

There’s beauty in our special occasions (above, Via de’ Tornabuoni), but also
in our times of solitary effort (below, Via del Moro).
© Joyce McGreevy

A man cleaning a restaurant kitchen in Florence, Italy inspires an aha moment about life's little rituals. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

The Choreography of Chores

Emptying the spazzatura has its rituals. (Yes, even “garbage” becomes beautiful in Italian.) You sort the spazzatura by type, then deliver each type to the correct municipal cassonétto. (That’s Italy’s poetic upgrade for “dumpster.”)

This takes time, because leaving the apartment for anything less than a fire means putting on polished boots, a colorful scarf, and gloves di buona qualità. The sporting element kicks in as you arrive at the receptacles. Let the games begin!

Don’t let the bin’s exterior muss your clothing, because to be Florentine is to be impeccable.
Do protect your posterior from vehicles rushing by like the Arno at flood tide. To be Florentine means appreciating life, and it helps if one is alive to do so.
Urrah! Celebrate with another Italian ritual, la passegiata, the walk taken for pleasure, always at evening.

A woman taking out the garbage in Florence, Italy inspires an aha moment about everyday life and life's little rituals. (Image © Victoria Lyons)

Taking out the garbage in Firenze is a satisfying ritual for the street-smart.
© Victoria Lyons

All in Good Time

Other everyday Italian rituals have their timing, too: Drinking cappuccino before 10:30am only. Knowing when to cede the narrow sidewalk to a fellow pedestrian. Anticipating when they’ll courteously jump off the curb for you. Stowing away cellphones to enjoy the pleasure of conversation.

Even sneezing involves ritual. In Italy, the proper response is: Felicità! “Happiness!”

“If we live in the here and now,” says Ferrucci, “each moment is a surprise, every instant a new wonder.”

Aha Moments at the Laundromat

A laundromat in Florence, Italy inspires an aha moment about everyday life and life's little rituals. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

While not the storied “room with a view,” a laundromat offers you
the pleasure of Italian conversations with your neighbors.
© Joyce McGreevy

It’s true, even at the lavanderia, where you help each other fold double sheets and discuss the weather and the books you’ve brought. But what about the sockless teenage customers, who pass the time hunched over video games, or elbowing each other and chortling at in-jokes?

Each time somebody enters or departs—no matter who they are—the boys pause, look up, and say Buongiorno or Ciao.

And there it is, the aha moment in an everyday Italian ritual: Acknowledging one another is essential. In this city of awe-inspiring art and grandeur, life’s little rituals reveal the true beauty of Florence.

The Calvacata, an annual procession in Florence Italy, inspires an aha moment about Italian celebrations and everyday life. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Our rituals honor grand epochs (above, Piazza della Repubblica)
and everyday aha moments (below, Lungarno delle Grazie).
© Joyce McGreevy

Shadows of passersby across a foyer in Florence, Italy inspire an aha moment about small pleasures and life's little rituals. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Explore Piero Ferrucci’s lyrical analyses of the human condition here.

Comment on the post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

Joyce McGreevy 2 Comments

Crossing Cultures/Discoveries/Italy/Life Lessons

Jan

In Florence, a Feast of Festivals

by Joyce McGreevy on January 7, 2019

A view of Firenze from across the Arno inspires a writer to reflect on the cultural traditions of New Year in Italy. (Image © Victoria Lyons)

Winter in the city of Dante: Florence invites reflection and revelry in equal measure.
© Victoria Lyons

Savoring the First Week of the Year
Is an Italian Cultural Tradition

Are “the holidays” a faint memory? In some countries, all trace of yuletide is tidied away with alarming efficiency. Trees that inspire ho-ho-ho’s one day, get the heave-ho the next.

Here in Florence, Italy, January’s air is still redolent with balsam. Fairy lights arch over streets, and by Italian cultural tradition, a feast of festivals continues. Long past December, much remains to be savored, so my friend Victoria and I go with the Florentine flow.

Pasticceria Nencioni in Florence, Italycelebrates the festive Italian cultural traditions of the winter holidays. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

On the Via Pietrapiana, Victoria admires edible art at Pasticceria Nencioni.
© Joyce McGreevy

Il festivo is January 1. That’s Capodanno, “the head of the year.” But first comes la Festa di San Silvestro, December 31. On-the-street TV interviewers ask passersby whether il Capodanno or la Festa di San Silvestro has more significance, a friendly debate that eludes resolution.

Il Mercato Sant’Ambrogio, Florence, Italy showcases the festive style of Italian cultural traditions during the winter holidays. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Five days into 2019, festive home cooks keep business brisk at
il Mercato Sant’Ambrogio.
© Joyce McGreevy

On New Year’s Eve, per cultural tradition, Victoria cooks il cenone (“big dinner”) of lenticchie e cotechino, a soul-satisfying lentil stew with sausages. Coin-shaped lentils and rich pork symbolize prosperity.

Prosecco, lentils, and cotechino are part of the culinary and cultural tradition of Florence, Italy during the winter holidays. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Prosecco chills, lentils simmer.
© Joyce McGreevy

Che Bella Notte!

If Christmas Day in Italy is a private family affair, New Year’s Eve is a nationwide block party. At 9pm, we join pedestrians of all ages in il centro storico. The night air is invigorating, the cobalt sky calm.

Piazza della Signoria in Florence, Italy is the site of a festive cultural tradition of open-air concerts during the winter holidays. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

After il cenone, enjoy il concertone at Piazza della Signoria.
© Joyce McGreevy

In the loggia, musicians warm up orchestral instruments. Victoria and I warm up with hot chocolate, an orchestrated event in its own right.

For the same cost as disposable cups of watery mix, we are ushered to a linen-covered table at a sheltered outdoor café. Amid the rosy glow of space heaters, we’re served the richest, most intense chocolate. If la dolce vita had a taste and texture, this would be it.

A cup of hot chocolate in Florence is made according to Italian cultural tradition, (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Bubbling like lava, cioccolata calda is made by melting chocolate morsels
in special machines that prevent lumping and burning.
© Joyce McGreevy

Momenti degli “Oh I See”

Earlier that day, we’d experienced a classic movie moment: A man carrying a precarious tower of boxes approached from the left as some clueless visitor (okay, okay, me) approached from the right. Last-second choreography by both parties and a tug from Victoria averted pratfalls.

Now we experience another such moment: When we leave a modest mancia (tip) for our waiter, he touches his heart three times. Dismiss the gesture as theatre if you must, but his smile reaches all the way to his eyes as we exchange New Year wishes.

Outside Orsanmichele, a Gothic granary-turned-church, we meet a man who is sketching the statuary. He is Taisske Kinoshita, a classically trained artist from Yokohama.

Taisske Kinoshita is an artist from Yokahama, Japan who lives in Florence and is trained in classical Italian cultural traditions of drawing, painting, and sculpture. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Italian museum curators like Loretta Secchi have praised Kinoshita’s gift
for revealing [una] visione dell’animo umano, “a vision of the human soul.”
© Joyce McGreevy

The Art of a Moment

Florence is Kinoshita’s home now, has been for 13 years. As we chat, he switches between English and Italian with the same fluid elegance we see in his sketch (and later, his sculptures and paintings).

Oh, I see: Such unexpected moments encapsulate life’s magnificence.

Quasi Mezzanotte! Almost Midnight!

The concert begins. Two orchestras—one local, one that’s traveled by bus from the Ukraine—delight the audience with music from Rossini. When both conductors take to the podium, they playfully duel. Then one guides the orchestra while the other conducts the audience.

A New Year’s Eve concert at Piazza della Signoria in Florence, Italy is a festive cultural tradition during the winter holidays. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

In harmony: the Chamber Orchestra of Florence and the Ukranian Symphony Orchestra.
© Joyce McGreevy

Presto ci sarà un’esplosione di baci, exclaims one conductor. “Soon there will be an explosion of kisses.” Then it happens—a chorus of cathedral bells, chrysanthemum bursts of fireworks, a mass outreach of hugs, un’esplosione di baci.

New Year’s Eve fireworks at Piazza della Signoria in Florence, Italy is a festive cultural tradition during the winter holidays. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Per Italian tradition, New Year fireworks repel bad fortune and attract bright prospects.
© Joyce McGreevy

Two ladies in tea-cozy hats magically produce a bottle of prosecco, seemingly from thin air. Soon others “discover” that they too have bubbly and stemware on hand. Who knew there was such bounty hidden in the folds of coats and the depths of handbags? Che miracolo!

Solemnly, the ladies pour for themselves, then—even though we’d not spoken a word—for Victoria and me. Is it clear from our expressions how touched we are by their gesture?

Buon anno! we toast. “Happy New Year!”

Then the crowd disperses, as decorous now as they were exuberant just one moment earlier.

Street scenes of pedestrians in Florence, Italy reflect the cultural traditions of festive winter holidays. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Forget GPS. Follow the festive pedestrians!
© Joyce McGreevy

Too Late?

Our gracious landlady had invited Victoria and me to drop by dopo cena, “after dinner.” But dare we, we wonder aloud, as we return to Via Fiesolana. Surely it’s too late, even on New Year’s Eve.

Hurriedly—an absurdity at this hour—we trade winter gear for dresses, gather gifts, and tiptoe up the stone steps of the palazzo to listen at the keyhole. If we hear nothing, we’ll discreetly retire.

Vestri chocolate shop in Santa Croce exemplifies the festive cultural traditions of the winter holidays. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Seeking gifts for our host in our Santa Croce neighborhood.
© Joyce McGreevy

Voices! The hum of festive conversations.

The big wooden door swings open, and Fiora’s welcome is warm. The spacious living room is made all the more inviting by book-lined walls, a Christmas tree, and children playing a board game.

The dining room table bears the elegant clutter of celebration. We meet Duccio, Fiore’s husband, and another couple. Linda and Niccolò have a farm in Chianti, where they produce olive oil and wine, La Querce Seconda.

Ceramic plates in Florence, Italy showcase images associated with Italian and Florentine cultural traditions. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Ceramic plates showcase Italian landmarks, Florentine motifs, and Tuscan hills.
© Joyce McGreevy

If it sounds idyllic, the idyll is at the consumer end. Farming is constant hard work, from contending with micro-terre, multiple soil types, to vigilant canopy management, and more. One hopes for rain—just not the rains that can wash away the fruits of a year’s labor, which happened in 2014.

I soon realize that the poise of this couple signifies something more—the grace that emerges from perseverance. A timely reminder at the start of a new year.

Restaurants on New Year’s Eve in Florence, Italy reflect a festive cultural tradition of the winter holidays. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Renewing bonds of friendship nei ristoranti is a highlight of Italian winters.
© Joyce McGreevy

Conversation flows, and so does ruby-dark port. We nibble mulberries from Iran and fruitcake from Siena, each slice as intricately constructed as stained glass.

Victoria and I don’t wish to overstay our welcome, a comical notion at 2am. Reluctantly, we excuse ourselves. As we murmur thanks, another guest arrives: Fiora’s aunt. Stylishly coiffed and attired, Zia Roberta looks as fresh as a daisy.

The Duomo in Florence, Italy is an icon of Italian history and cultural tradition. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

A winter night’s walk offers surprises: holiday lights and a glimpse of il Duomo.
© Joyce McGreevy

And Still the Festivals Continue

On January 5, Italian children (and two American visitors) hang stockings. It’s the eve of la Festa della Befana, when Befana flies her broomstick down chimneys.

Fear not. The world’s cheeriest witch delivers giocattoli e caramelle (toys and candies), then sweeps the floor to clear away last year’s problems.

Shop windows in Florence, Italy celebrate the cultural tradition of Festa della Befana. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

“Lots of games and little objects for the socks of Befana!”
Some Italian children wait until Festa della Befana to open gifts.
© Joyce McGreevy

But wait, there’s more! Every January 6, Florence celebrates Epiphany with the sumptuous Cavalcata dei Magi. In a cultural tradition from the 15th century, men on horseback portray the Three Wise Men as Renaissance nobles. Followed by 700 costumed figures, they parade across il Ponte Vecchio to il Duomo to present their gifts. Veramente magnifico!

Cavalcata Dei Magi, an annual Epiphany procession in Florence, Italy reflects a cultural tradition of the winter holidays. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Cavalcata costumes are inspired by Benozzo Gozzoli’s frescoes.
© Joyce McGreevy

È Poi? (And Then?)

Today it is January 7. The Twelve Days (and then some) of Christmas have finally passed.

But wait, what’s that we see? Like rose-red butterflies, sale signs flock to the city.

Underwear in a shop window in Florence, Italy reflects a cultural tradition, wearing red underwear at New Year’s to bring good fortune, (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Red undies and briefs fill shop windows. Wearing them is said to bring good fortune for the new year.
© Joyce McGreevy

It’s time to don your finery, gather the family, and wander out for a look. Perhaps pause for a meal, or at least take coffee with friends.

After all, the streets of Firenze will be so festive!

A street scene in Florence, Italy reflects a cultural tradition of savoring the winter holidays. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Winter in Italy—a warm benvenuto awaits!
© Joyce McGreevy

Comment on the post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

Follow the Italian-inspired artist Taisske Kinoshita here and here.
Discover the wines of La Querce Seconda here and here.
Watch la Cavalcata dei Magi here.

Joyce McGreevy 16 Comments

Cultural Heritage & Traditions/Italy/On Foot

Apr

Travel Stories: Good Thing We Took the Wrong Train

by Joyce McGreevy on April 26, 2016

A view from a flight departing Boston might feature in travel stories about travel mishaps that turn out just fine. Image © Joyce McGreevy

Travel Mishaps, Mosaics, and Memories

If two trains travel toward the same station at different times . . . Remember those math questions from school? Call them my least favorite travel stories.

I recall Mrs. Newton asking our fourth grade class to brainstorm solutions. As the collective desperation mounted, I burst out with “Agh! Stop the trains!”

Okay, so not a mathematician.

Yet those equations proved instructive. As emblems of bewilderment in motion, they offered a preview of real-life travel problems.

Making Tracks, Italian Style

Like the time my son and I transferred to the wrong train. We were traveling “home” to Florence from Ravenna, once capital of the Western Roman Empire. The glittering tesserae of Byzantine mosaics had seemed illumined from within. My perusal of Italian rail maps proved far less enlightening.

Mosaics in Ravenna, Italy, like this one of Empress Theodora, are a highlight of many travel stories.

In Ravenna, Italy, Empress Theodora is immortalized
in mosaic. Travel memories are mosaics, too.
Photo by Meister von San Vitale in Ravenna [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Oh, I understood when the conductor told us to transfer at the next station. Trouble is, we had different ideas of what constituted “next.”

This I discovered as, breathless from managing the tight connection, we noticed one tiny glitch: We were moving in the wrong direction.

A train passenger catching the wrong train is a subject of many travel stories.

Ah, that splendid travel moment, right before you realize you took the wrong train.
Train Passenger photo by Unsplash is licensed under CC0 1.0.

No problem. We’d get off at the next stop, sort things out at the ticket booth, and catch the next train to Florence. Meanwhile, we’d explore what was sure to be a charming little town.

Two hours and no discernible charm or ticket booth later, we boarded another train. But when I told our predicament to the conductor, he practically congratulated us on our mistake.

Home By Another Way

The ruins of the Roman forum feature in many travel stories, from travel mishaps to magic. Image @ Ceren Abi

Turns out the train we should have caught had just been sidelined by a strike. Factor in that, ye mighty writers of the “two trains” pop quiz.

Had we done everything correctly, the conductor explained—his tone conveying the folly of such behavior—it would have been midnight before we reached our destination.

He seated us beside a personable woman who turned out to be an expert on Italian art history, including Ravenna’s mosaics. It was a delightful journey.

“Good thing we took the wrong train!” my son said, a line that has entered family lore. It’s an expression we use when things that go wrong somehow lead to a positive outcome.

Which in travel, they do with surprising regularity. Oh, I see: Sometimes travel mishaps lead to great travel memories.

Confusing road signs, like this one in Italy, feature in many travel stories of travel mishaps.

“Excuse me, could you give us directions to the road less traveled?”
Road sign in Ischia Porto by Zoagli is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 4.0.

Mysteries, Great and Small

Like that time in Brittany . . . We’d been pondering the megalithic mysteries of Carnac, France, site of 3,000 standing stones. Then we encountered another mystery. Someone had broken into our rental car and stolen a backpack.

The standing stones of Carnac, France feature in many travel stories, from travel mishaps to magic. Image © Arie Mastenbroek/Thinkstock

The menhir, or ancient standing stones of Carnac, France were erected by pre-Celtic peoples.
© Arie Mastenbroek/Thinkstock

Nothing elevates the sentimental value of objects like their loss. We headed to a police station. For a ten-year-old boy who read The Adventures of Tintin, this was welcome diversion.

Hearing our American accents, the gendarme playfully asked if we knew Clint Eastwood.

Did I mention that we’d lived in Carmel when Eastwood was mayor?

Surely the gendarme would still have offered us refreshments, courtesy, and a tour of the station had we lived in Duluth.

In any event, a travel mishap became a congenial field trip. The day’s experiences–the sublime, the snafu, and the serendipitous–combined like a mosaic to create a positive travel memory.

April-Fools-at-Large

A sign for a found parakeet in Evanston, IL might feature in travel stories of travel mishaps. Image © Joyce McGreevy

On April Fools’ Day, we returned to the town.

The backpack and its contents, having failed to meet our thief’s aesthetic standards, had been dumped in a phone booth.

We were directed to the town hall basement, where a lone employee seemed glad of company.

After signing for the backpack, we chatted about Poisson d’Avril, as April 1 is called in France. We’d known that pranksters celebrated the day by sticking paper fish on the backs of the unsuspecting.

But the part about enjoying fish-shaped pastries and candies was new information. Monsieur Le Sous-Sol sent us home with a veritable school of foil-wrapped chocolate sardines.

Traveling at a Snail’s Pace

A view of Liscannor, Ireland shows why getting lost can lead to great travel stories. Image © Joyce McGreevy

My friend Jules once got lost while driving in Ireland. That’s easily done, as Ireland is somehow bigger on the inside than it appears on the outside.

As the road got narrower, its surface thinner, she ended up at a lakeshore. Light played on the ripples of the water.

Then she heard rustling in the foliage.

What had broken the silence? Nothing more than a snail moving along lush, green leaves. If that isn’t the measure of a peaceful setting, what is?

Hello, said Jules, admiring the spirals on the snail’s shell. I’ve come a long, long way to meet you. Some travelers, even when lost, are always where they need to be. For them, “wrong” turns, discovery, and appreciation form one rich mosaic. Now how about you? When have travel mishaps led to your favorite travel stories?

Something as small as a snail can feature in travel stories of getting lost and finding beauty.

Memorable travel sights aren’t always
the most monumental.
Jon Sullivan [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Listen to hilarious tweets about travel mishaps from comedian Jimmy Fallon here.

Comment on this post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

Joyce McGreevy 1 Comment

Art of Travel/France/Ireland/Italy

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Everyday Aha Moments in Italy