#14: Rainphobia and Triumph at the Cafe
This week has brought the rain to Lucca - and the end of a very long and beautiful summer.
The change in season has surfaced another fascinating Italianism, which is a very real and intense fear of precipitation. Italians are petrified of getting wet in the rain. For weeks now, the must have accessory around town has been a large umbrella and water resistant shoes. We've witnessed locals using umbrellas to get the ten metres from their car to the cafe to avoid suffering a single drop.
Yesterday Dave quizzed one of his friends about it, who explained that it was a deep-seated fear that all Italians inherit as children from their nonnas. If you get wet, you will catch your death of cold. Conveniently, the conversation was interrupted by the friend's wife calling him to make sure he'd taken an umbrella that morning!
I've found it fascinating that Italians will happily engage in activities that have been proven beyond all reasonable doubt to be dangerous to your health (smoking, driving too fast, drinking enough espresso to give a rhinoceros a heart attack) but will not, under any circumstances, go against old wives tales or superstitions.
These include sleeping with the air conditioner on, wet hair, getting caught in the rain, having a cold neck, swimming within 2-3 hours (!) of eating, drinking milk after 11am or drinking very cold water. The latter three supposedly cause the much feared 'blocco di stomaco' which can prove fatal. I'm sure there's many more to add to the list.
In other news, an update on the fiasco that is the payment process at our favourite gelateria. A few days ago I was there with Leo, and we were served by one of the sons. The other person behind the counter was la mamma. As per usual, the boy ignored the sign instructing us to pay first and served us a gelato before taking our money. On the way out, I overheard the mother telling him off for taking payment afterwards and not before!
And finally, a small breakthrough in my quest to move from tourist to local. After dropping the bambini at school in the mornings I often go to Pasticceria Dianda, one of my favourite spots for an Italian breakfast (coffee and a pastry, hold the cigarette). The woman barista is fearsome. She betrays no emotions. And she pumps out exceptional cappuccini at an impressive rate.
Since I have arrived in Italy, I have often found that my order will be delayed if a regular walks into the cafe. Baristas here will almost always prioritise the orders of locals over tourists. But yesterday, it was my order that got fast-tracked! An obnoxious tourist couple (of course - who else could I possibly outrank?) were waiting for three takeaway cappucinos. Eye roll.
The barista was literally halfway through pouring the milk into the third cup when she took my order. She stopped, made my cappuccino, and only after I'd been served did she return to the takeaways.
It was glorious! I know I should feel for the tourists, given how recently that was me, but I just couldn't. I also feel like she might have just had the very hint of a smirk on her face at the end of the interaction. I am henceforth committed to being their #1 customer.
All my love!
Kate
