Living with a Bunch of Old Wives

One might think that a hypochondriac like me would feel better in Italy because all of the ailments are already named.  They have real Italian names because they are real Italian ailments.  Italians don't make stuff up or wonder what might be wrong with them.  They know what's wrong.  They've named it.  And even if there's nothing they can do about it, at least they know what the problem is. They can probably also tell you (with a bit of regret for having been so careless) exactly where and when they were struck by the condition.
 
I'm well aware of how often I put myself in danger, yet I continue doing so.  Instead of heeding the Italians' kind warnings, I laugh.  But I'm always the only one laughing.  Well, I was always the only one laughing until I went to a dinner party with one of my students, his girlfriend, and her British English teacher.  Then the Brit and I were the only two laughing.   After that dinner, I did some research and found that plenty of other non-Italians also find these strange ailments humorous.  Other expats are taking the same risks we're taking and chuckling at the advice of their Italian friends.

I don't know much about the latest trends in fashion, but I do know that accessories come and go.  Things are in style for awhile, maybe even for quite awhile, but they almost always go out of style at some point and then return in a decade or two.  So, how do you explain Italians and their scarves?   It seems to me that scarves have never gone out of style in Italy.  And now I think I know why.  Scarves are used to protect you from the dreadful colpo d'aria.
  
The first thing the Brit and I had in common was that we'd never been struck by the 'hit of air'.  You can be hit by air in any number of places.  By that I mean any number of places on your body. Eyes, ears, necks, backs and stomachs are just a few of the zones that need protection.   Most Italians that I know are afraid of being hit by cold air.  Being struck by a colpo d'aria is sure to make them sick.  Maybe even sick enough to stay home from work for a few days.  The rest of us would just say we had a cold.  And it usually wouldn't stop us from going to work.

To arm myself for the next person that was going to warn me of the colpo d'aria, I decided to learn about colds.  In case you don't know (like my fellow Italian friends), colds come from a virus, not from a blast of cold air.  So, if you feel a cool breeze on your neck while you're hearing things over the grapevine (literally) from your neighbor with the nasty cough, there's no need to run in for your scarf.  If they pass you the virus, you're going to get the cold with or without your scarf.  And if they aren't coughing and you still get sick, it's not your fault for being inappropriately dressed.   You probably just lingered too long in the cafe drinking your macchiato and talking to the lady with the runny nose.
 
Like many other curly-haired non-Italians, I often leave the house with a wet head.  I did it in below zero (fahrenheit) days in Chicago and I do it on chilly, winter days here.  The number of times I've gone out with wet hair in Italy and the number of times I've been told that I'm going to get cervicale  are the same.  And it's a high number. I should also mention that you increase the risk of cervicale by going to bed with wet hair.  Yet another bad habit of we women blessed with curls.

Cervicale is what I would call a sore neck or a little bit of tension in my shoulders, and I'm quite sure I've never gotten a sore neck from having wet hair.    But in Italy, it's not just a little pain (in the neck).  It has a name and you should try to avoid getting it.  My cure?  I just rub my neck during dinner for ten minutes and it usually goes away.  It's never really seemed like something to worry about.   Keep in mind, you're hearing this from someone who worries about almost everything.   How do Italians cure it?  That's a good question.  I've never gotten that far on the issue.  In an effort to be polite (by that I mean to keep from laughing), as soon as I hear that someone is suffering from it I say that I hope it doesn't last too long and I try to change the subject.

And how about going out with wet hair on my bike?  That's like a giant hit of air and cervicale at the same time.  Imagine the shock I caused when I left the pool this summer without drying off.  The parts of my sundress that weren't soaked by my wet bikini were drenched by my dripping locks.  And was I really going to get on my bike and ride home like that?  Yes.  It was 95 degrees.  I wasn't afraid.  And much to the surprise of those who knew that I took this risk, I had a healthy summer.

Yesterday I went to return the tray that Gemma had delivered her fresh gnocchi on the day before. I complained to her that I'd slept all morning and I was upset that I'd wasted my time.  She suspected I was suffering from pressione bassa and asked if I'd checked it. No, I hadn't checked my blood pressure.  Isn't blood pressure something old people check to monitor their medicine?  And younger people, too, I guess, when their doctors tell them that they're overweight or eat too much salt.  But all Italians seem to have a blood pressure checker at home and they know how to use it no matter how old they are.  If they're not feeling their best, without missing a beat, they check it.  Don't  "I can't come to my lesson today, my blood pressure is low" or "I wanted to do the shopping today but I couldn't because my blood pressure was low" or  "I had to skip my walk today because my blood pressure was a bit low" all just mean "I don't want to come to my lesson, do the shopping or get my exercise because I'm a little tired?"

Back to my morning in bed.  When Gemma's 30-year old son heard me, he came out and said that I was probably suffering from the cambio di stagione.  Fortunately, I'd already read about this one.  It's October.  We're transitioning from summer to winter.  That's a change of season, hence the 'change of season disease.'  It seems that if you're tired in the dead of winter or in the middle of summer,  you're just plain tired.  But if you happen to feel a bit sluggish in the spring or fall when the seasons are changing,  you've got a real Italian ailment and you need rest.

I wish these were just old wives' tales that the younger generations weren't falling for, but they're not.  When I laugh about it with my Italian peers and even with my students 20 years younger than me, they're not laughing.  I learned the same phrase from two students on the same day.  When I said that I swim right after I eat I was warned, "Stai scherzando con fuoco!"  (You're joking with fire!)  Can you imagine a handsome, 30-year old Italian guy having serious concern for my health because I didn't wait two hours after eating my pizza to jump in the pool?

And apparently I was also joking with fire when after a workout at the gym I used to opt-out of the germ-infested locker room for a sweaty walk home to take a shower at my own house.  The warning came from a student who won't send her niece home after a full day of sweaty playing without first giving her a bath.  And if there's no time, she at least blow dries the damp neck and hair of the little princepessa.  I've even heard that some moms take blow dryers to birthday parties just in case the kids have had a little too much fun running around.  Maybe it could be a new parting party game...."Come get your colpo d'aria calda (hit of hot air) and goody bag before heading home."