Day 5/6: The day I pissed off nonna
Never ever let anyone tell you need to know only a few Italian phrases (or in any language for that matter) to open doors. It might get the shopkeeper to raise her eyes, smile and respond in Italian, but then, she expects you to keep going. And when you don’t and can’t understand her, well, everything falls apart.
Take me for example with the little old Sicilian shopkeeper - at the most 4’5” tall - who wanted exact change for my bottle of wine and bottle of detergent. I gave her 50 euros, hoping to break the big bill. Afterall, this was a grocery. This lady was operating a jack-rabbit, revolving door business. She shook her head with distain and her face began contorting. She scribbled a scratchy 11.30 euros on a brown paper bag. I thought she wanted THAT much more. Finally Len walked into the store and tried to understand the issue - he was as confused as me, admit it - I gave her 20 euros more. Offered her my credit card. I would have taken my shirt off if she had asked for it.
She kept speaking louder and louder, hands waving. I’m terrified. She hands me the 50 back, breaks the 20 and dismisses me with her hand. The back of her hand floated from her stocky chest to the the top of her head. “I am through with you.”
I walked out dismayed and disheartened. My first official dismissal by a nonna. She was through with me. How could anyone be through with me? Everyone loves me. I wanted to cry but I was more interested in smacking Len because he was laughing at me. I was done with him for the day, too.
Italy is lovely but hard. I knew Sicily would not be easy, but it’s still discouraging to know exactly how much you don’t know. All the social media influencers who encourage you to know a few words and that’s it, screw you and the camel you rode in on.
You’ve got to have a grasp of the language, and I don’t. I’m in their country and I’ll do the best to pick up as much as I can. Until then, I’ll let my hands do the talking - just like them.
