The Lollipop Guild

By Patricia Winton

Munchkinland isn’t the only place with a Lollipop Guild, but Italy’s Lollipop Guild isn’t here to welcome you; they’re here to stop you. Italian police use the paletta del poliziotto (which resembles a giant lollipop) as a signal for drivers to stop. The paletta is a metal or plastic circle, about ten inches (25 centimeters) in diameter mounted on a stick; one side is red, the other green. Police keep them handy, attached to the doors of squad cars. Spiffy motorcycle cops tuck the lollies inside their boots, making them easy to grab. I’ve seen bicycle troops with the paletta sticking out of saddlebags, and while I haven’t seen them, I suspect the Venetian version of motorcycle patrols use them as well.

Italian motorists, and even pedestrians, know the paletta means stop. Squad cars, sirens wailing, swoosh through intersections with a cop holding the paletta out the window. To the uninitiated, that little circle of red may go unnoticed, but you ignore it at your peril. The police officer with the lolly has the right of way. Fortunately, the sirens are a better signal for most tourists to Italy.

There can be perils for the police, as well. A couple of years ago, a police officer saw a motorist trying to pass another car on a dangerous stretch of road where passing was prohibited. The officer stuck out his paletta to stop the car. It was traveling too fast, and the side mirror of the car struck the paletta, wrenching the officer’s arm and breaking his elbow.

The paletta is also sometimes used in crime. Thieves armed with a counterfeit paletta target cars with foreign tags. In one recent case, such a thief stopped a French man driving a camper. Once the driver opened the window, the thief ordered him to open up the back of the van, which he planned to strip of its valuables. This tourist was lucky. Real police officers came upon the incident. The thief tried to hide his paletta falsa under his jacket, but he was apprehended and the French man went on his way.

In another case, two men impersonating police officers stopped a van carrying three Hungarian tourists, using a counterfeit paletta. One of the tourists became suspicious and asked to inspect the police credentials. This trio enjoyed good fortune as well in that Caribinieri came along in time to interrupt the thieves and take them into custody.

Genuine and Counterfeit Palette

The genuine paletta has a band of white reflective material around the rim with the name of the issuing agency (municipal government, defense department, state department, etc.) with the agency’s seal in the center. Many counterfeits don’t have any identifying marks. So if you’re in Italy, respect that lollipop if you encounter one, but be wary as well. That is, “trust, but verify.”

Please join me on alternate Thursdays at Novel Adventurers. Next week I'm writing about one of my favorite Italian treats.

A Long-Standing Affair

Italians are wedded to their automobiles. In fact, Italians own more cars per person than citizens of any other country in the world‒32 million motor cars for 57 million people. That’s more than one car for every two people. Be it a Fiat or a Ferrari, it makes Italian hearts flutter.

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Italy’s love affair for the automobile is reflected by the language. While the word automobile exists in Italian, the word macchina is more common. Macchina means machine, obviously, and is used in conjunction with descriptors to refer to other objects, such as macchina di fotografica for camera, but just say macchina, and Italians immediately think you’re talking about a car.

I’m sure this love for automobiles led Pope Pius XI to appoint a patron saint for automobile drivers in 1925. The Pope tapped Saint Francesca Romana for this position, so the legend goes, because an angel always carries a lantern ahead of her to light her way, keeping her safe from harm. Canonized in 1608, Saint Frances never had a glimpse of an automobile of course, but the image of a light darting in front of her must have been the closest thing the Vatican could find. People still drive by the Santa Francesca Romana church (near the Colosseum) on March 6 in hopes of being blessed. Watch the 1936 ceremony below.

 

This deep-seated cultural predilection for cars is being combined with the Italian love for coffee come October when Fiat introduces the new 500L which has an optional built-in Lavazza espresso machine between the two front seats. I’m not sure the combination will catch on. Going to the bar for a cup of espresso is as integral to Italian life as driving. Besides, the economic situation is making people cut back, and an option that can only be used when the car is in park could be easy to pass up. If you’re going to park anyway, why not just go to the bar?

Hanging Out at the Local Bar

 

The economy is ravishing the romance in other ways as well. Gasoline prices in Italy are the third highest in the world at $9.35 a gallon. Taxes account about 54 percent of this amount, a rise of more than 25 percent over the last year. These increases are part of Prime Minister Mario Monti's plan for economic recovery, and a two euro-cent increase in May aids earthquake victims. These higher prices have reduced both gasoline and automobile sales. Even so, the tax raised 33.5 billion euros during the first six months of this year. I do notice less traffic, however, and people are cutting back on holiday driving.

 

Will Italians divorce themselves from their macchine? Not a chance. Like any marriage, this one is facing a rough spot, but love will prevail in the end.

Playing in the Traffic

The traffic doesn’t stop until you step into the street. This maxim rules the life of Roman pedestrians. That makes things difficult for those of us from another culture where the rule is: Don’t step into the street until the traffic stops. Drivers here see you and prepare to stop, but they don’t halt their cars until your feet are firmly off the sidewalk.
Romans on foot approach a crosswalk without pausing. They step into the traffic, and like Moses parting the Red Sea, they manage to interrupt its flow. The cars move around them. The key is to avoid pausing because drivers often judge a pedestrian’s pace and aim their cars ahead of or behind the stride without actually stopping. A pedestrian who dawdles risks death.
Despite the number of years I’ve spent here, I still find crossing the street a challenge. When I first arrived in Rome, I would walk great distances to find a traffic light. That ploy is not a guarantee of safety, however. At many Roman crosswalks there is a pedestrian “Walk” light while cars have a turn arrow allowing them to traverse it at the same time. One such intersection lies in my daily path just outside my front door. I usually cross the street twice to avoid that dangerous spot.
My lifelong stratagem for crossing the street fails me, too. I stand looking left, watching for a break in the traffic. I see one five cars along and wait, keeping my eyes on the spot. Usually, one of two things happens. First, a car ahead slows to give me a chance to step into the traffic, disrupting the entire flow so that the break I’ve anticipated closes up. The driver who has paused becomes disgusted with me and speeds up, and there’s no place to cross. The other scenario is even more annoying. Another pedestrian often steps up to my right, out of my line of vision. That pedestrian strides into the traffic, which stops. I have my eyes focused ahead and don’t notice until it’s too late and the traffic has started again.
My usual strategy is to join somebody else and cross with them. Just last week I approached a particularly harrowing crosswalk over a busy thoroughfare. The traffic from the left careens down a hill and around a curve so that you can’t see too far back. The traffic from the right speeds up the hill and around another bend with an equally short line of sight. I spotted a school group about to cross and tried to catch up, but I failed. I shuffled around until a lone, leggy young woman approached, and I stepped behind her has she plunged into the traffic.
Romans step into the traffic in the middle of the block, too. When I’m walking with someone who does that, my heart races. A couple of years ago I was in London with two Italian people. Now, crossing the street in England is a challenge because you have to remember to look right for oncoming traffic. These two people started to plunge into the traffic mid-block. They would surely have been killed before my eyes if I hadn’t pulled them back. Londoners expect people to follow the rules.
I am braver about crossing the street now, but if all else fails, I wait for a nun or a mother with a baby carriage.