Italy: the heart of Europe's love affair with it
May 15th 2006 08:00
I thought I might begin my blog with a piece about that most romantic of European countries – Italy. I can hear the Eurovision announcer’s voice ringing in my ear now…Italy! Not that they’ve won it since 1990 - or even participated since 1997 - but hey, a guy can dream. That dulcet idiomatic European voice somehow conjures all the verve which I associate with this richly diverse nation. The singing masses…
I won’t promise to cover all the territories and nooks of our favourite country to look like a football boot. The soccer-faring ululations of Italy are too many to summarise in one blog. So, as this will go nowhere near doing it justice, I do promise to come back. Visit again. You know, maybe do something remarkable alfresco and become enshrined in some pantheon so I can suck up the sights and smells for free.
Where to begin with Italy… the staunchly regionalistic enclaves? The food? The culture? Well, it’s all inextricably linked, you see. You can’t talk mad-cow Milanese without talking venerable fashion sense. And you can’t talk ballistic Bolognese without talking boho university town. So much to see and do its mind-boggling. I think I need a quick hit...
Ah…that’s better. Sweet sweet Google…
Ok, so my first trip, and I mean trip - the sensory overload exploded my parochial little attitude towards parmesan cheese – was like visiting the old family home. Somehow I knew: this is where civilisation was perfected.
Now don’t get me wrong. The Italians are crazy. They will happily, smilingly throw a flare in your face at the local grudge match because you wore your Inter shirt; and the next day they’ll atone for breaking mass with a couple of Hail Mary’s. (I don’t profess to understand Italian footballing culture, other than to say that you should always, always take your own riot police to a game.)
But if there’s one thing they do exceedingly well, it’s culture. Rome oozes with the stuff. It flows in the streets and solidifies into wily forms like café chairs and affable street vendors. I’m embellishing, I know. But it really is a special place.
I think I need to begin this national tour with a city…stay tuned.
I won’t promise to cover all the territories and nooks of our favourite country to look like a football boot. The soccer-faring ululations of Italy are too many to summarise in one blog. So, as this will go nowhere near doing it justice, I do promise to come back. Visit again. You know, maybe do something remarkable alfresco and become enshrined in some pantheon so I can suck up the sights and smells for free.
Where to begin with Italy… the staunchly regionalistic enclaves? The food? The culture? Well, it’s all inextricably linked, you see. You can’t talk mad-cow Milanese without talking venerable fashion sense. And you can’t talk ballistic Bolognese without talking boho university town. So much to see and do its mind-boggling. I think I need a quick hit...
Ah…that’s better. Sweet sweet Google…
Ok, so my first trip, and I mean trip - the sensory overload exploded my parochial little attitude towards parmesan cheese – was like visiting the old family home. Somehow I knew: this is where civilisation was perfected.
Now don’t get me wrong. The Italians are crazy. They will happily, smilingly throw a flare in your face at the local grudge match because you wore your Inter shirt; and the next day they’ll atone for breaking mass with a couple of Hail Mary’s. (I don’t profess to understand Italian footballing culture, other than to say that you should always, always take your own riot police to a game.)
But if there’s one thing they do exceedingly well, it’s culture. Rome oozes with the stuff. It flows in the streets and solidifies into wily forms like café chairs and affable street vendors. I’m embellishing, I know. But it really is a special place.
I think I need to begin this national tour with a city…stay tuned.
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Comment by Anonymous
I just wondered if you watched any football/soccer games while you were there because they are meant to be a bit fanaticall and exciting.
Noo
Comment by TD
Are you a good looking man? Because in Italy, there are many good looking men