Runny Roman Noses

What has a big hooked shape and runs all the time? You see one wherever you look all over Rome. Yep, the nasone, big nose, it is. But not that kind of nose.

The nasone is a type of fountain that delivers water all over the city. This utilitarian beast was first introduced in 1871 by the city’s first mayor following Italy’s unification. The metal cylinder stands a bit more than three feet tall, and the distinctive hook that gives it its name extends from one side. I read somewhere that the law creating these fountains required them to be placed every sixty meters. I haven’t been able to confirm that, but there are more than 2,500 throughout the city.

And the water flows all the time. It’s good, sweet water brought in by the aqueducts. Some guide books advise tourists to carry a plastic cup, but the cognoscenti don’t need plastic. If you place your finger under the spout to stop the flow, the water is diverted through an ingenious hole and spurts up in an arc like a drinking fountain from my school days. It takes a little practice to keep your feet dry, but it’s well worth the effort.

This free-flowing, and free, water supply is an integral part of Roman life. So much so, in fact, that during recent construction to rebuild part of a street and the adjacent sidewalk, the workers diverted the water with a hose and set up a temporary fountain for the few weeks that the nasone was inside the construction site.

One enterprising flower seller is not so generous. He has built an apparatus that completely covers the nasone beside his stand. It includes a vat that is always full of clean water; he uses it to dampen his plants and wash his pots.

Cooks or waiters in small restaurants often carry out tubs of salad greens to wash them under a nasone. I frequently see people exiting the market with their bags of produce stop by the fountains outside to wash an apple, munching on the fresh fruit as they walk along. And dogs adore them. And dogs tug on their leashes, dragging their owners to the flowing water for a drink.

My municipio—local government office—sets up an ice rink in a nearby piazza during the winter. It’s a popular after school or work pastime. I see staff getting ready for business in the afternoon as the sun begins to sink. They pipe water over from the nasone and smooth out the ice before opening up to the public.

The nasone provides homeless people a place to bathe. I even saw a pair of homeless men doing their laundry under one. They had a bucket for agitating the wash and rinsing. When the clothes were clean, they each took an end of things, including a large blanket, and twisted to wring out the water.

Many people in my family have the proboscis type of Roman nose. I’ve always attributed that to the time Julius Caesar and his men spent on the British Isles. It makes me laugh to think of that other kind of Roman nose when I walk past a nasone.

Lost in Translation

My British friends and I talk about the common language that divides us. We consult each other for translations when we read. For example, when I read Joanna Harris’s Gentlemen and Players, I called up my friend Glenys. “What’s a conker?” I asked. Later when she was reading To Kill a Mockingbird, she had to know, “What are druthers?”

My first encounter with the disparity came many years ago during an early trip to England. I was staying with some people in Sussex and we were having a domestic discussion of some kind. The woman spoke about a paraffin heater. I was quite alarmed. “Isn’t that dangerous?” I said. She replied that it was normal. I persisted in voicing my concern until someone else explained to both of us that paraffin in the U.S. is wax while paraffin in Britain is kerosene.

I’ve been enjoying this diversity ever since. In teaching English as a second language, I often have to do three-way translations. Again, I first encountered this anomaly some years ago while teaching a class in Washington, D.C. At that school, American English ruled. A European student was shocked at a sentence in the lesson. “Isn’t it a ten dollar note?”  “No, dear. It’s a ten pound note, but it’s a ten dollar bill.”

Now, all my students are European, but many want to visit the U.S. The textbooks I use are British, so when the word queue comes up and someone asks what it means, I translate into Italian, but explain that it means line in America. I try to limit myself to practical words that may cause trouble for the tourist, like elevator vs. lift and such like. Even this gets confusing. Italians use the word lifting to mean face lift, or general firming up of the body. It can be a bit complicated to get into how that all fits together.

To me the most shocking discovery has been that publishers translate from English to English on either side of the Atlantic. I first learned this while doing a lesson with a thirteen-year-old Italian girl. She loved Harry Potter. We each had a copy of HP and the Philosopher’s Stone, my copy published in the U.S., hers in Britain. In the scene where we first meet Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall, he offers her something. My young student read lemon sherbet and I stopped her. “That’s lemon drop.” We compared texts. Lemon sherbet in the U.S. is not a hard lemon sweet, er, candy.

 And while I can understand the need to do this kind of translations for books marketed to children, I don’t think it’s necessary for adults. I’m not especially happy to see Faulkner’s practice changed to practise, but I can accept it since editors usually seek consistency. But it’s egregious when translation weakens the prose. 

I reread Capote’s In Cold Blood a couple of years ago. When I got to page 87 of the British-printed edition I was reading, I stopped cold. In the passage describing how neighbors and the hired man cleaned up after the murders, I read:

They unloaded the truck and made a pyramid of Nancy’s pillows, the bedclothes, the mattresses, the playroom couch; Stoeklein sprinkled it with paraffin and struck a match.

I didn’t need to check the text to know that that last phrase should have read kerosene. The poetry of Capote’s prose with that interplay of s’s and k’s had been destroyed by a sloppy editor who, exactly 100 pages later, left in the phrase “scalding water and kerosene lamps.”

 Would a British reader have been confused? Maybe. Maybe not. But a careful reader who takes joy in words would have delighted in the poetry and looked up the meaning.

Italy Is Closed for August

         
I noticed the change on Saturday, a full forty-eight hours before it began. As I went on my morning walk with a prescription in my hand, each of the half dozen pharmacies I passed displayed a “closed” sign. On Monday, two vacant parking places waited directly in front of my building’s front door. Another one invited a car to enter just two spaces down. Usually people circle for some time before they find a spot.

And then I remembered; it was August 1; Italy had closed for the month.

Americans find it difficult to understand that businesses close their doors for vacation. But here, most people prefer to spend their free time in the summer when the weather is warm. Some businesses  require their employees to take the time off even if they would prefer another time. So in August, most people flee to the beaches or the mountains, both abundant in Italy, or even to some exotic location like the Red Sea or the Seychelles or Las Vegas.

Over the weekend, and even Monday morning, I noticed police cars parked all along the Tuscolana, the major thoroughfare near my home. They were keeping traffic moving, sending double parkers scurrying to get out of the way of the hoards of cars on their ways out of town.

It’s like that everywhere. At the local market, where there are approximately sixty stalls, about two-thirds have closed, many for the entire month. Those that aren’t taking all of August are taking time to include August 15—ferragosto, arguably Italy’s favorite holiday.

People begin saying Buone Vacanze by the end of May to make sure that they wish you well before you depart. You have about a month of small talk because people talk about where they’re going beforehand and what they did afterwards.

The pharmacies have posted notices for all the stores in the area. Their closures are timed to make sure that some are always open. The shoe shop, the jewelry store, the computer repair shop, even the realtor. All have signs up warning you not to expect to find them there during le vacanze.

My friendly neighborhood drycleaner (pictured below) has had her sign up for a couple of weeks. She’s closing shop on Friday. But now, she’s working overtime and has enlisted the help of her daughter to make sure all her customers have their clothes ready for vacation.

And I must admit that I’m getting into the spirit by squeezing in a two-week visit to the U.S. between ferragosto and Labor Day. I’m going to do some book signings, meet with other mystery writers, visit my mother, attend a mystery writers conference, and spend a couple of days in the mountains. When I get back, I’ll need a vacation.

A Lickety-split Lunch

I’m having one of my favorite lunches today: Bean and Tuna Salad. It’s quick and easy to make. The ingredients are always on my pantry shelf. And I really like the taste. What more can you ask of a dish? It also lends itself to some variations, and measurements don’t have to be precise.

When I first learned to make this dish years ago, the recipe called for cooking the beans from scratch. Well, scratch that. With canned beans, I can put it together in little more than ten minutes. On those days when I have a rumbling stomach at high noon and have made no plans for lunch, I make this lickety-split and can feel virtuous that I’m having a healthy lunch instead of a grilled cheese sandwich or other fatty foods.

The standard bean for this salad is cannellini, but you can choose another type if you wish. Italians tend to prefer dark tuna, so I make this dish made that kind, but you could use white tuna if you really like it instead. I use tuna packed in olive oil, but again, you can save some calories by choosing the type packed in water. 

The traditional recipe calls for red onion, which I favor, but you can use fresh spring onions, basic yellow or white as well. I think there’s enough salt on the canned beans, but you may add a bit if you think the salad needs some.

Pour something to drink and eat a piece of fruit. The perfect lunch.

Tuna Bean Salad

1 small red onion, chopped

1 15-ounce can cannellini beans

1 6-ounce can tuna

2 tablespoons chopped flat-leaf parsley

1 cup cherry or other small tomatoes, quartered

Black pepper

Extra virgin olive oil, to taste

Optional: capers (about 2 tablespoons), balsamic vinegar, black olives, salad greens, chopped basil.

1. Chop the onion first and put in a cup of cold water while you prepare the other ingredients.
2. Drain the beans and rinse under cold running water. Drain and place in a bowl.
3. Drain the liquid (either oil or water) from the tuna and add it to the bowl.
4. Drain the onion and add to the salad.
5. Add the tomatoes, parsley and black pepper. Pour over oil to taste and mix.
6. And it’s ready.

Variations: Add some chopped black olives and/or capers. Mix basil with the tomatoes before adding them. Add a sprinkle of balsamic vinegar with the oil. Arrange salad greens on serving plates and spoon on the salad.

Health Care, Italian Style

While America has been embroiled in the great health care debate, I have been settling in as a customer of Italy’s National Health Service. The Italian constitution lists health care as a basic right, so once I had applied for residency, I was eligible to join the service. It’s been an illuminating experience.

I was able to choose a primary care physician, and I based my choice on a friend’s recommendation. I can change physicians at any time. The doctor practices with her sister, also a doctor, and I can see either of them whenever I need to by dropping by during office hours. Yes, I often have to wait for a while, but since I always have a book to read, I don’t mind. I pay nothing for these visits.

The two doctors are the only staff. No receptionist means that patients keep track of who’s next to see the doctor. No nurse means the doctors give injections or take temperatures or bandage wounds. No technicians means the doctor writes an order for lab work. The patient goes to a lab (either one within the NHS or a private one). If the order requires a urine analysis, the patient buys a little sterile cup at the pharmacy and prepares the sample at home.

At my neighborhood lab, we all stand outside waiting for the doors to open early in the morning, most patients carrying a telltale green and white pharmacy bag with our personal liquid. Inside the lab, the receptionist records the doctor’s orders on the computer, accepts urine sample, takes the fee (I usually have to pay about $75 for a general work-up), gives me a number, and tells me when the results will be ready.

When my number comes up, the technician has printed out labels for the various tests I need. She draws blood, applies the appropriate labels to the vials, and bids me good day. When the results are ready, I pick them up and take them to the doctor who analyzes them and makes appropriate recommendations. I take the results home for safe-keeping and to bundle with the results next time.

I am quite healthy, so I’ve needed no serious care, just the usual winter sniffles and summer allergies. I get an annual flu shot (no charge) and get the usual mammogram, PAP smear exam, bone density tests for diagnostic purposes.

Friends who have been here longer than I have and who have more serious health problems or have had babies praise the system, too.  It’s worth noting in Italy life expectancy is higher and infant mortality rate is lower than the U.S.

The Titty Bar

There’s an establishment in my Roman neighborhood called the Titty Bar. It’s not what you think.

Prim grandmothers meet there for morning coffee after hitting the market, dragging their shopping carts along. Workers from nearby offices crowd in at lunchtime for a plate of pasta. Teenagers arrive in groups after school to sip Cokes and text absent friends.

The Titty Bar is named for a cartoon character. Can you guess which one? It helps if you know a bit about Italian pronunciation. Generally, with some precise exceptions, all vowels are pronounced the same way every time: a is “ah,” e is “a,” i is “ee” o is “o,” and u is “oo.” So that means titty is pronounced teety.

Still can’t guess? An additional hint: there are some letter combinations in English that are impossible for Italian speakers. The “th” sound wreaks the most havoc. This particular sound is difficult for Italians because the “h” doesn’t exist as a sound in their language. It exists as a letter solely to indicate the correct pronunciation of the vowel that follows it or to underscore meaning. For example, the word ci in Italian is pronounced like beginning of the English word “cheese” while the word chi is pronounced like the English word “key.” In both cases, the “h” tells us how to pronounce the vowel. When Italians see and “h” in English, they ignore it.

Birthday becomes beertday. Notice that the “i” becomes “ee” and the “h” disappears. Third becomes teard. I spend lots of my time as an English teacher sticking out my tongue at my students to get them to practice the “th” sound.

But that doesn’t help you identify the Titty Bar. Another combination causing grief to Italian students of English is the “tw” sound.  Italians ignore the “w,” so Titty is the Italian pronunciation of Tweety.  And Tweety is surprisingly popular here. His image, and name, appear on children’s pencil cases and on t-shirts and even on kitchen appliances. Yes, there’s a Titty cappuccino maker!

Sometimes Titty is spelled Titti. My last cat was named Nefertiti, and I called her Titi. I always do a double take when I see this alternative spelling. It’s not as provocative, but it evokes a warm reaction from me every time.

An Award!

My pals at Novel Adventurers, a blog featuring four fearless travelers whose characters roam the globe solving mysteries, have presented me with The Irresistibly Sweet Blog Award. All I have to do to accept is write five random facts about myself and pass the award on to five other blogs. http://noveladventurers.blogspot.com/


FIVE RANDOM FACTS ABOUT ME

• I have always hated petunias. REASON: My third grade teacher told my mother that I read too much, and they devised a plan to make me water petunias every day to keep me out of the house. I retaliated by moving covers from book to book to hide the number I actually read. 
• I don’t have a sweet tooth, except for chocolate. BUT: I can eat a can of Pringles or a bag of cashews in one sitting. When my sister introduced me to eating potato chips with Hershey bars, I found true joy.
• I held a White House press pass for a day. REASON: I wrote for a national publication interested in a particular press conference given by President Carter, so I asked for credentials.
• I love anchovies and often cook with them. CHALLENGE: You probably eat them more often than you know. Check the ingredients list of Worchestershire Sauce.
• I’m afraid of heights and bridges. BUT: I once walked across the Chesapeake Bay Bridge with my heart beating my eardrums for all four and one-half miles.

FIVE BLOGS YOU MIGHT LIKE

• Letters from Earth http://kath-lettersfromearth.blogspot.com/ Kathleen Marsh records random thoughts about life in general and marriage in particular. Her husband, the Prince Consort, is a frequent participant. 
• Fiori di Zucca (Squash Blossoms) http://fiordizucca.blogspot.com/ This blog is in Italian, but it is full of authentic recipes for Italian food--all translated into English. To find the English version, click on any recipe under “Menu” then scroll down. The English version follows the Italian. 
• Mystery Lovers Kitchen http://www.mysteryloverskitchen.com Eight mystery authors, who all write books about food, blog about it, too. Every day there’s a new recipe plus news about the books from these award-winning writers. 
• 2Friends4Cooking http://www.2friends4cooking.com/wordpress/ Ren Finch writes this small blog which offers information about unique events in Italy and great recipes. In the past, Ren has held cooking classes in her home near St. Peter’s. She has recently moved to Tuscany and will be offering cooking classes there very soon. This blog will tell when. 
• Diane Vallere http://dianevallere.blogspot.com/ Diane writes about shoes, clues, and clothes and other random thoughts.

If I have mentioned your blog, you can accept the award by passing it forward. Write five random facts about yourself and five short reviews of other blogs.