Domenica di agosto, che caldo fa! La spiaggia è un girarrosto… (Sunday in August, it’s so hot! The beach is a rotisserie…) That’s how every conversation starts here in August — half complaint, half love letter to summer. The sand is basically a frying pan by ten in the morning, and everyone is already negotiating shade with a beach umbrella the size of a small tent.

By late morning, someone always suggests going on a countryside outing (fare una scampagnata), just to escape the crowds packed shoulder to shoulder on the shore. We pile into cars with too little air conditioning and drive inland, where the air smells like pine and dust instead of sunscreen.

Evenings are the real reward. As the heat finally loosens its grip, we take a little walk (fare due passi) along whichever street looks least crowded, mostly as an excuse to have a little chat (fare quattro chiacchiere) with neighbours we haven’t seen since June. Conversations drift from the price of tomatoes to who’s getting married in September, and nobody is in a hurry to end them.

Later, the real ritual begins: a stroll along the seafront (fare una passeggiata sul lungomare), gelato in hand, watching the sky turn the color of a peach. If we’re lucky, someone knows a spot where we can light a bonfire (fare il falò) right on the sand, and the night turns into a slow, smoky gathering with friends playing guitar around the bonfire. The night of Ferragosto (August 15th) is a holiday for everyone, so people end up staying up until very late in the night — one of those nights when the sky is already starting to lighten by the time you finally get home.

No summer evening is complete without a barbecue of meat or fish, if you are by the sea (fare una grigliata di carne o di pesce), the smell drifting everywhere until everyone has “accidentally” wandered over for a taste.

And then, on the night of 10th August, there’s San Lorenzo sotto le stelle (Saint Lawrence under the stars) — the night when shooting stars streak across the sky and everyone makes wishes they’ll pretend not to remember by morning.

The next afternoon, of course, comes l’abbiocco (that heavy, food-drowsy sleepiness), and there’s only one cure: fare una pennichella (take a little nap), preferably in a hammock, preferably for far too long.

Originally shared on LinkedIn.

SAYINGS & ‘RE-SAYINGS’

Water, wind, and scorching sun: a pinch of folk wisdom.

In the past, farming knowledge and tradition often relied on observing the sky and weather patterns to make decisions that frequently proved crucial in everyday life.

From these observations about the weather, proverbs and sayings were often born — ones whose meanings ring just as true about human nature and social relationships. For example:

“Acqua davanti e ventu darrè” draws on the symbolism of ships and ancient sailors, with the wind at the stern and the sea at the bow, cutting through it relentlessly. It’s a proverb urging us to leave behind those who prove false and malicious.

Other sayings lead us to reflect on that scorching sun which, for months on end, beats down on Sicily and, for better or worse, rules over everything.

A stern, unforgiving father, you might say! That same sun gives us our good crusty bread and the extraordinary dried figs and dried tomatoes (the latter also known locally as ‘chiappi’).

Here’s a saying that captures the magic of this heavenly body: “Sutta lu suli si maturanu li cosi” — underscoring just how essential the sun is to all of life, or perhaps simply suggesting, metaphorically, that things need time to truly grow and turn out well. A genuine lesson in rural wisdom that we should truly treasure in today’s hyperconnected world.

That same sun also gives us the traditional Sicilian ‘mostarda’ (made from fresh grape must) and the so-called ‘cotognata’, made from quinces at the end of the long summer season.

Perhaps paradoxically, this same benevolent star is also the sun that dries out and parches everything. In the celebrated novel The Leopard by Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa, the Sicilian sun is described as a violent, absolute force. To quote just a couple of brief passages:

“The sun […] revealed itself as the true sovereign of Sicily: the violent, shameless sun, the narcotic sun […]”

“This climate which inflicts on us six months of fever at a hundred degrees: May, June, July, August, September, October — six times thirty days of sun bearing straight down on our heads.”

In August, here’s what a well-known Sicilian proverb — always on my dear grandfather’s lips — has to say: “Austu è capu di ‘nvernu”, alluding to the fierce, inevitable afternoon storms that mark the end of the season.

Some sayings are tied to specific places, referring to Sicilian towns and cities where the weather can be especially extreme:

“Si voi pruvari li peni di lu ‘nfernu, lu ‘vernu a Missina, e la stati a Palermu.” (If you want to suffer the pains of Hell, try winter in Messina and summer in Palermo.)

And you? Between the frost of Messina and the blaze of Palermo, which way would you run?

And if we put it in culinary terms: which would you choose — arancini or arancine?

But that’s a topic for next time… Until then… ‘Keep hydrated!’

Originally shared on LinkedIn.

DETTI & ‘RIDETTI’

Acqua, vento e sole rovente: un pizzico di saggezza popolare.

La conoscenza e la tradizione contadina si affidavano spesso in passato all’osservazione del cielo e dei fenomeni atmosferici per poter prendere decisioni che spesso si rivelavano cruciali nella vita di tutti i giorni.

Da queste osservazioni sul tempo sono spesso nati dei proverbi e detti con significati del resto veritieri sulla natura umana e sui rapporti sociali, per esempio:

“Acqua davanti e ventu darrè” che usa la simbologia della nave e degli antichi marinai, con il vento a poppa e il mare a prua fendendolo inesorabilmente. Un proverbio che incita a lasciarci alle spalle chi si rivela falso e maligno.

Altri modi di dire ci portano a riflettere su quel sole cocente che per mesi e mesi bacia la Sicilia e che, nel bene e nel male, la fa da padrone.

Padre padrone, si direbbe! Quel sole che ci dà il nostro buon pane asciutto e croccante e gli straordinari fichi e pomodori secchi (questi ultimi chiamati anche ‘chiappi’).

Ecco un detto che enfatizza la magia di questo Astro: “Sutta lu suli si maturanu li cosi” per sottolineare quanto sia assolutamente indispensabile alla vita di tutto, o anche solo per suggerire metaforicamente che bisogna dare tempo al tempo per poter veramente crescere ed ottenere qualcosa di buono. Una vera e propria lezione di sapienza contadina di cui dovremmo davvero far tesoro nel mondo iperconnesso di oggi.

Quel sole che ci regala anche la tradizionale ‘mostarda’ siciliana (fatta con il mosto fresco) e la cosiddetta ‘cotognata’ ricavata dalle mele cotogne alla fine della lunga stagione estiva.

Forse paradossalmente, quest’Astro benevolo è anche lo stesso sole che secca e inaridisce tutto. Nel celebre romanzo Il Gattopardo di Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa, il sole siciliano è descritto come un elemento violento e assoluto. Per citarne solo qualche breve passaggio:

«Il sole […] si rivelava come l’autentico sovrano della Sicilia: il sole violento e sfacciato, il sole narcotizzante […]»

«Questo clima che c’infligge sei mesi di febbre a quaranta gradi: Maggio, Giugno, Luglio, Agosto, Settembre, Ottobre; sei volte trenta giorni di sole a strapiombo sulle teste».

Ad agosto, un famoso proverbio siciliano sempre sulle labbra del mio caro nonno dice: “Austu è capu di ‘nvernu”, accennando ai forti e immancabili temporali pomeridiani di fine stagione.

Alcuni detti sono toponomastici, cioè si riferiscono a posti e città siciliani dove il tempo può essere particolarmente estremo:

“Si voi pruvari li peni di lu ‘nfernu, lu ‘vernu a Missina, e la stati a Palermu.” (Se vuoi soffrire le pene dell’Inferno, prova l’inverno messinese e l’estate palermitana).

E voi, tra il gelo di Missina e la vampa di Palermo, da che parte fuggireste?

E se volessimo metterla in termini culinari: cosa scegliereste, gli arancini o le arancine?

Ma questo è un tema per il prossimo articolo di Detti & ‘Ridetti’

Originally shared on LinkedIn.

‘Mammoni’ or ‘bamboccioni’?

Forty and Still Living La Dolce Vita… at Mamma’s House

Move over, Peter Pan — Italy has its own boys (and girls) who never grow up: the legendary bamboccioni. Literally “big babies,” these are grown adults, often well into their forties, still tucked into their childhood bedroom, still showing up for Sunday lunch (il pranzo della domenica) like clockwork, and still letting mamma do the laundry.

Don’t confuse them with mammoni though — that’s a whole different flavour of clingy, more about heart-eyes for Mum than about the empty wallet.

Bamboccioni are victims of circumstance: shaky job contracts, sky-high rent, and salaries that vanish faster than gelato in August.

Times are certainly changing, but the extended famiglia remains Italy’s real safety net — for better or worse.

Originally shared on LinkedIn.

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