Italian soccer, the downfall of a nation

Just so it's clear I'm not all pro-Italia, I'd like to profess my joy of returning to American sports. NBA, NCAA, Golf, Baseball – any American sporting league you chose, you'll find some basic qualities that many of us take for granted. Among these: fans of all ages at the sporting events, love of the game and respect for the game rather than hate for the opposing team's fans, sanity, and lack of political ties between fans and a certain team (this last one sounds strange, but I'll explain...)

Most people are aware that Italy is soccer obsessed. So, when I moved down to Rome and my roommate Fede and her boyfriend were always going to the gi-normous Roma Olympic stadium to see Roma play, I took interest. "Hey, maybe I can come sometime?" "Angi," she'd say... "I don't know if you really would enjoy it. I get the shit kicked out of me every time and we actually don't even get to see the game because the crowd's always pushing at the best parts." She would pull up her pant leg to show me her newest array of bruises. Granted, Fede and Luca had seats in the Curva, similar to our bleachers, or at least where the rowdiest fans gather. Then after seeing a similar picture to this one:
I decided maybe it was better for me to follow the games from the safety of the neighborhood pub.

The years that followed brought new realizations that just continued to make me skeptical about the Italian soccer league, including teams buying off referees, and multiple fans and a policeman killed before and after games due to uncontrollable crowds and pure chaos.

Another scary day was when I learned that most Ultras (each team's fan organizations, a.k.a. the fans who live and die for soccer and their team) have extreme political affiliations. Bologna's the Communist team, Lazio, Fascist, etc., etc. The Captain of the Lazio team (also a member of the Fascist party) would characteristically stand in front of the Lazio Ultras and give the Roman salute (think Mussolini) to celebrate his goals.

Perhaps the worst was the day this past summer when Naples Ultras invaded Rome. Thousands of Neopolitan soccer fans showed up at the Naples train station without tickets and forced an entire train of regular, ticket-carrying passengers off of the train, and insisted that the train take them to Rome for the Roma-Napoli soccer game. The police, for whatever reason, feared causing further riots and allowed the train to depart. After causing over $750,000 in damages to the railway facilities, the fans arrived in droves to the Rome train station. These fans, many of which were masked, and some of which were brandishing weapons and/or flame throwers, paraded through the city to the stadium. Maybe it's just me, but this type of situation reminds me more of a country at war than of a group of fans checking out an away game.

And yet Italian soccer continues. My Italian friends ask me many questions about the American culture and why we do certain things or why certain things are the way they are. One has always been "Why don't you have the crazy psychos that we do at our sporting events?" And one of mine to them has always been "How do you let this madness continue in your country?" Neither of us can come up with a logical response to either, other than "Well, that's just the way it is."

So guilty

Having trouble accepting the fact that I just heated up yesterday's pasta in the microwave for lunch.

Italian on wheels

Ok I admit, part of my awkwardness with driving etiquette comes from the fact that I have barely driven in the past five years. I never owned a vehicle in Italy (I like life and choose not to risk it unnecessarily), and during my brief Christmas vacations in Cleveland, I had to split car time with my two sisters and mom. However, I think this can still be grouped into my reassimilation woes.

After lapping the crowded parking lot at the shopping center near my house, I notice a man sitting in his car, perhaps ready to pull out and head home. I catch his eye and unconsciously rest my thumb on the side of my slightly bent index finger and shake it in towards my face twice – a gesture commonly understood throughout Italy as "Are you leaving?". The man crinkles up his face in confusion, thinking I've offended him in some way. Oops, silly Angela forgot that in America we don't have these hand gestures! I speed away, hoping to leave my embarrassing moment in the dust.

I'm sure I'll have many more hand gesture moments because living in Italy, one gets used to using them often in place of or to enhance words. In fact, I think we should initiate the use of them in the States... or maybe I can just teach an elite inner circle of friends the gestures so no one will have any idea of what we're communicating to each other, moohahaha.

The above gesture (also executable by folding your thumb in and hitting your hand, led by the side of your index finger against the center of your other hand's open palm) is useful for quick, unpublicized escapes. At a lame party? All you have to do is look at your friend and make the gesture and within seconds you've both escaped out the side door.

Oh, and that is just the beginning... Here's a strange but perhaps helpful site with pictures of a woman doing some typical Italian gestures: RandomWomanDoingGestures. Learn them, use them, and you can be part of my elite club.

Siiiigh the seaside towns of Italia. There was a pre-movie ad tonight with a quick glimse similar to this one. Not something you will see in Cleveland, that's for sure.

Brio "Tuscan Cuisine" no no no...

Out to dinner with my parents in the west suburbs of Cleveland. Our first choice is closed (an unfortunate power outage due to ice) so we head to Brio Tuscan Grill or Tuscan Cuisine, something like that... basically a place that profits on the fact that they include "Tuscan" in their name despite not offering a single dish native to the land of Tuscany.

If you are a fan of chain Italian restaurants in the States, you are going to be very surprised when you eat out in Italy. Italy is NOTHING LIKE Buca di Beppo, Carraba's, Brio, OLIVE GARDEN (dear Lord) or any of these.

My heart breaks when I see appetizers listed as Primi - looks like the President of Marketing down at Brio corporate was trying to be all clever when they put it into Italian. Too bad Primi means "first course" in Italian. Sigh. I brace myself and try to find the most simple dish that won't disappoint me. I stear clear of the pastas, imagining limp overcooked noodles with heavy cream sauces.

Ironically I find a ton of non-Tuscan dishes: Lobster bisque, chopped salads with feta cheese and cucumbers (Greek?), Alfredo sauce, and the list goes on and on. I try not to cringe as the overly friendly waitress tells me about the shrimp "brushetta" with lobster sauce. I go with the fish of the day – the "scrod," which is just a horribly cacophonous way of saying "young cod". The fish arrives breaded and perhaps deep fried(?) with a scary orange creamy sauce on top. I'm just happy to not have the American version of an Italian dish that I know and love.

Looks like it's going to be rough trying to get used to eating in the U.S...

Me posing with my headless Roman friend on the Appian Way

Some background...

If you're reading this blog, you probably already know a bit about my present situation. However, just in case, this first post is to give you just enough background to enjoy the rest of the blog.

My name is Angela Vannucci. I grew up in Cleveland, Ohio, and went to Georgetown University to study languages. Ever since I was 14 and went to Italy with my family, I have had somewhat of an obsession with Italy and its culture. I think it was my study abroad experience in Spain after my senior year in high school that inspired me to dedicate my college education to language and explore foreign (especially European) cultures. Junior year was the first time I actually lived in Italy, in Florence. I loved it so much, and felt so at home that I moved back within a month of college graduation.

The five and a half years that I lived and worked in Italy proved to be challenging, rewarding, eye-opening, life-altering and overall, a time of immense happiness. My decision to return to the States was almost entirely career motivated. That said, the last year of my life has been spent trying to accept this decision. Finally, I'm here, back in the U.S., unemployed, experiencing culture shock and VERY cold (it's December and I'm in Cleveland at my parents' house.)

I think only now will I realize all of the things I've learned in the past five and a half years, will appreciate all that I had, will discover all that I've missed in the U.S., will be frustrated or even tickled by all of the idiosyncrasies between the two cultures and will try somehow to find the right balance between the two cultures and my two realities. I'm already suffering the sometimes-quaint, other times nauseating effects of culture shock.... I'm a foreigner in my own country! And this blog is dedicated to my re-assimilation into the American culture and reflection on everything that I've become in my "Italian years".