The “Boh…..” Blogpost

Looking out from Da Sagraro to the East toward Padova

Festa Della Trebbiatura (Threshing Festival)

Prologue: The photos in this post have nothing to do with the post itself.  They are photos of just some random events from this month that I included because they are so great and they may not get included anywhere else.


There are all kinds of interesting phrases, expressions, and sayings we run across in our endeavors to learn the Italian language and culture.  I’m still trying to fully master one expression that apparently has many little twists:  “Boh….”

The first time I heard it, one of the guys on my staff said it as we were finishing a short discussion.  I was in the process of walking away since we had stopped talking, he said it, and I did a kind-of double-take because I wasn’t sure what he said or whether it was something I needed to respond to.  In that moment, I could see that he had moved on to something else as he said it, so I just walked away.

Then I heard it again one day by someone else.  Then again.  For a while, I couldn’t figure out whether it was just an end-of-conversation grunt, a form of a sigh, or what.  Well, like a lot of times when learning the language, you hear something, don’t know exactly what it means, make a mental note of it, and then you’ll hear it over and over and over.  So I kept listening and paying attention and tried to figure out what this expression was all about.  I finally figured it meant something like, “Uh, I dunno…” or “Oh well…”

My beautiful wife at Agriturismo Ca' Bianca

Then I finally asked my guys about it.  For the most part, it seems, it does more-or-less mean “Oh well…”, but I gather it has a more exasperated, can’t be helped, there are forces beyond our control working here – tone to it.  Almost like, “That’s the way things are, I guess, so what the Hell do you want me to do about it?”  Maybe a little like “It is what it is.”  {Another classic expression in Italian “piu o meno” for “more or less”, since nothing is exactly anything here.}

Calici delle Stelle

But it also has little twists, I gathered.  If you say it more like “Buh…”, it seems to mean more of the “I dunno.”  If you say it more like “Bah…”, it seems to mean more like “What the frick?”
 So now I try to pull it out myself when I think it may be appropriate.  Of course, I’m still way too eager with it.  I’ll be in a conversation, see a good opportunity to pull out a good “Buh…”, use it, then anxiously raise my eyebrows to look at the person I’m talking to and see if they are impressed with my mastery (cough, cough) of the nuances of the Italian language.  One time, I get the best confirmation of all, I grunted out my best “Buh….” and the person I was talking to grunted back at me “Buh…”.  I walked away from our guttural exchange very happy with myself.

Josh was totally jivvin' with the live jazz performance!

Yet another spectacular evening with the family!

ct

Sicily...in summary.

Taking the overnight ferry (with car) through the Straights of Messina.

Sunrise at the "toe" of Italy.

Our first glimpses of Mt Etna and Sicily.

I quickly became overwhelmed with the task of blogging from our vacation.  There was just too much fun to be had to stop and write about it.  Now I find myself in a position where I am writing one blog covering the span of about two weeks when each day of our trip really deserves its own description.

Overall, the trip was simply awesome.  I imagine it’ll be one of those trips we’ll reflect on for the rest of our lives.  I hope the kids remember something about it, anything about it.  If not, the 1,000 or so pictures we took may help to tell the story for them one day.

Lord where to start…ok, let’s start with some overall impressions.

First, for the record, one of my most favorite things to do in this life is to go swimming, long open-water swims, in the salty clear-blue water along the Mediterranean coast.  Quiet, peaceful, no current to speak of, no time constraints, warm sun, gentle waves (most of the time), extra buoyant because of the high salinity, clean water, swimming far away from the shore, just swimming until the swimming is done.  Won-der-ful!

Second, we ate well the whole vacation.  I’d say our meals ranged from “good” to “really damn good!”  Really good wine too.  The Nero d’Avola wine, famous in Sicily, is tasty and not expensive.  As a matter of fact, everything in Sicily was either inexpensive or at least reasonable.

 

Sicily is a really interesting place in that for all its beautiful landscape, amazing ruins, incredible beaches, and utter charm, it is largely unmaintained to the point of being really dirty and run-down in a lot of areas.  We were there in what is still considered the “off season”, but for being early June it still felt like a lot of places were like ghost towns.  We drove through many little towns that looked completely abandoned; little seaside towns lost in time, where there may be 6 or 10 houses that looked as if they hadn’t been lived-in or even touched in many years, another few houses that were in various stages of halted construction or demolition, then every so often a really nice looking place with a manicured lawn and garden tucked behind a series of walls, gates, or shrubs.  Suzanne commented that it often reminded her of rural Mexico.

Our children have become world-class travelers.  For being 6 and 5 years old, they are perfectly comfortable hopping on and off planes, ferries, buses, trollies, gondolas, fernunculars, cabs, water taxis, trains, or driving long distances in the car.  They walk through crushing crowds in tourist centers, scale ridiculously steep and narrow steps up a variety of churches and castles, hike along treacherous trails with side slopes that plunge hundreds of feet into the sea, swim in icicle-cold mountain lakes or in crystal-clear blue seas, ski in the Alps, wait in oppressive lines or race to catch our next mode of transportation.  Josh has become our go-to guy for repeating “No grazie” over and over and over to all of the African salesmen who often inundate us on the beaches with offers to give us the “best price” on towels, earrings, wood carvings, sunglasses, and a hundred other trinkets.  Isabel loves to look at maps and figure out where we are and where we should go.  Both of them strap on their backpacks and pull their own suitcases, hauling luggage up and down stairs “BY MY-SELF!!!” 

From where we sat at dinner on our first night in Giardini Naxos.

And do they walk!  I mean, we do some serious walking, and they walk!  I distinctly remember our first couple of trips in the first weeks we arrived in Italy.  Ho-ly-canoli did I spend some time walking through Venice and Salzburg with one of the two kids on my back piggy-back style.  But once they built up some stamina and learned what the expectations were, they’ve been some walking fools ever since.

Well, not only does that not cover our experience in Sicily, it doesn’t even scratch the surface.  I must find a way to come back to this trip for our blog and describe some more about the sights, sounds, places, people, and wonderful experiences.  But for now we’re moving on because there are too many other things to go do and see and experience, and the writing-about-it part will just have to take a back seat. 

In the public gardens of Taormina.

I caught Isabel enjoying some quiet time sitting on the ruins of the amphitheatre in Taormina.

Josh doing his best King Arthur routine.

My hope is that these experiences stay in our memories and in our hearts for the rest of our lives; a deep well of story-telling that we can draw from during family gatherings for decades; experiences we share together as a family and become part of our collective history.

Playing catch on the beach below Taormina.

ct

p.s. The pictures I’m posting on this blog are not necessarily the best we have of our trip or capture anywhere close to the entire experience.  Not by a long shot.  They aren’t even necessarily the best pictures of one DAY of the trip.  Most days, we took over 100 pictures.  Generally speaking, I have been sifting through one day’s worth of pictures per blog, try to pick a few from that day that catch my eye, and include them in the post.  I haven’t even bothered to sift through 500-600 pictures from our albums for inclusion in these blog postings.  It’ll have to do.  ct



Positano Day3

(Originally written 27 May 2013)


Good gracious, keeping track of time has become a real chore.  Wait, is today “Day 3” of our vacation?  Let’s count.  Oh, but wait, first somebody remind me what day of the week it is.

We had a nice, lazy breakfast in our apartment followed by several hours of hang-out time on the beach.  The sun was shiny and hot today, but there was gentle breeze to cool things down and if anyone needs an immediate cool down, all they had to do was put their feet and ankles into the freezing cold water.

Our kids often remind me of our old dog, Enzo.  They take to water like it was their mission in life to find it and frolic in it.  If they even see a body of water somewhere, it is almost an inevitability that they will find their way into it.  Here are your choices as a parent: take a bathing suit and towel, strip them naked, or accept the reality that their clothes will become wet.  Does it matter that it is icicle cold?  Certainly not.  And just like Enzo, there is such unadulterated joy when they are out there playing in the water.

After lunch, we decided that we would venture into the town of Amalfi for a little touring around and dinner.  A little mix-up at the bus stop caused us some delay and inconvenience, but I suppose it also provided an up-close and personal view of the insane scenes that occur on the local roads throughout the day.  Nothing in the American experience can relate to how narrow the roads are, how sharp the turns are, how fast the people drive, how many scooters zip in and out of the flow of traffic, how many pedestrians are out meandering around on pathetic excuses for sidewalks, how utterly inconsequential any of these conditions matter to where people park, and how there seems to be a complete disregard for personal property, safety, and the value of life itself.

The town of Amalfi is very nice.  Suzanne observed that the waterfront areas are a little more like ports or marinas as opposed to the sunbathing beaches of Positano.  The narrow, cobblestones streets are the same though, with steep slopes and lined with crowded shops of ceramics, lemoncello, jewelry, bars/cafes, beachware, and tobaccorias.  It has a beautiful church in the center of town, at the top of a pretty impressive set of stone steps.  We went inside and sat down for a while, enjoying some quiet time and the beginning of an evening mass.

Suzanne asked one of the local women for a trattoria recommendation and that led us to a small, local place where we “ate very well” and enjoyed (finally) some more reasonable prices. 

I have always found that Italian expression to be an interesting clue into the way Italians view food and eating.  As Americans we would ask, “Did you have good food?”  The Italian way of asking that is, “Did you eat well?”  I’ve talked about that on several occasions with Italians.  From the Italians’ perspective (and I tend to agree with them), Americans view eating as more of a transaction.  More often than not, you go someplace for food, food is prepared and served, you eat the food and hope that it is good, then you leave.   For the Italians, it’s an event, an attitude, a way to spend time with family and friends.  It’s not that Americans never do that.  Thanksgiving is a good example.  With most Italians, though, Thanksgiving happens pretty much every Sunday.

Here’s another example, for the first several months we were in Italy, we were still figuring out when places were open, when people ate, and when it was appropriate (or required) to make reservations.  It took us some time more to get adjusted to the process of making a reservation.  It is often the case that the person taking your reservation will not ask about the time of your reservation.  That is for a couple of reasons.  First, like other very culturally rigid things here, people generally eat dinner at about the same time.  Go to a restaurant at 7:00pm and it is empty, if it’s open at all.  We often eat in restaurants completely by ourselves, wondering why more people don’t patronize such a fantastic place, only to see the parking lots and tables become packed with people about the time we are leaving at 8:00 or 8:30. 

The second reason you generally don’t need to state a time with your reservation is because it is generally accepted that whatever table you get will be your table for the whole night.  From what I can tell, it is by far the exception to “turn over” a table and have more than one patron eat at that table on a given night.  No one restaurant owner will take offense to you taking 45 minutes to drink your after-dinner coffee, because they didn’t expect to use that table for another patron that night anyway.  In a lot of places, they don’t even bother taking your name when you call for reservations.  Really, all they want to know is how many people are showing up for dinner tonight so they know how much food to prepare.  So you call and ask for a reservation for 4 or 8 or whatever, and that’s it.  Then you show up and let them know that one of their 4-person reservations has arrived and they show you to your table.  Basta (that’s it.).

 

And so it goes.
ct

Positano Day2

(Originally written 26 May 2013)
 

Isabel:  Mommy, maybe you should call me a Billy Goat and call Josh a lizard.

Mommy:  Why should I call Josh a lizard?
Isabel:  Because lizards are really fast and Josh goes like the wind!

Josh to Isabel:  Isabel, you’re the best rock climber in the whole world!

I love when the kids complement each other.  It’s really the cutest thing ever.

When we come back from some of these awesome family trips, I feel like I have “perma-grin” and find it hard to explain to folks how good it was.  Naturally, people ask, “What did you do?” with this expectation that I would recite a litany of fun activities and sightseeing adventures like a tourist’s guidebook.  The truth is that some of the most enjoyable moments are the fun we create for ourselves, just hanging out doing our thing.

For example, today we spent most of the morning on the pebbly beach hunting for little bits of sea glass.  Sea glass.  Nothing real special about little pebbles of sea glass, and it’s almost even sacrilegious to spend all that time looking down at rocks when there are such beautiful vistas all around, but it has become “a thing” for us and I’m not going to make any apologies for it.

 

Later in the afternoon, after lunch back in our apartment and a little rest, we took a bus to a neighboring town called Nocelle.  From there, we went on what would become a 3-hour hike.  The kids took turns as “trail leader” and kept a very good pace through the first two hours or so.  The third hour was a bit tricky for all of us because we needed to descend very steep hills, navigating rocky paths and stone steps, with rather poor lighting due to the dark storm clouds and setting sun, but we all made it just fine.  In fact, I’m certainly proud of the walking/hiking/climbing stamina these kids have developed as we’ve dragged them all over Central Europe for the past 18 months.  There are worse things.

ct