I'll drink to that

The Italian post system is a glimpse of what the United States Postal Service will operate like in a few years, assuming that budget cuts and facility closings continue.  Poste Italiane is unapologetically slow and erratic.

Anticipating that we would miss our favorite magazine during our year abroad, for our anniversary last year I gave Michael an international subscription to the weekly New Yorker magazine to be sent to us in  Mantova.  We do get the magazine: it is just that we get it in packs of threes. In fact, when we get mail it is an exciting event, as all the mail we should have gotten over days or weeks is brought to us, [sort of] monthly, on one day. Where all our mail is kept in the interim for [give-or-take] three weeks, in transit from the U.S. to here, is hard to fathom.  We like to think that some over-worked and under-paid Italian postal worker peruses our magazine, enjoying the cartoons and Hendrik Hertzberg commentary.
"Where does the BRAUN mail go, Lorenzo?"
"Oh, just put it over there, next to my coffee. I will get it to them soon enough."

The better way for us to get news is, of course, the internet. Every morning I log on and read the first pages of The Mantova Gazette [translated], The New York Times, and The Missoulian, our local paper in Missoula.  The Missoulian is fun because sometimes you get headlines like, "The Squirrels are BACK!" [Where did they go?] Mostly, though, the news in the Missoulian is somber and sad.  Recently the paper is full of tales of rapes, closing businesses, a teacher's abduction, and drunk drivers.  Today I realized that any Mantovanian looking at my hometown paper would be fearful of our small community and wonder if the West wasn't still very, very wild.

Not that the drunk driving reports are much of a surprise. Montana has always had a drink-and-drive culture, and a top or near-to-the-top spot on highway fatalities per capita as well. Drinking and driving was even called [in a positive way] a "way of life that has been in Montana for years and years," by one of our State Senators [Rep. Alan Hail, R - Basin]. While laws have recently become stricter, Montana is still far behind Italy, which has a recent zero-tolerance policy for drunk driving. One infraction, and in some cases, you can lose your car and license permanently. Fines and a confinement of vehicles start at a lower blood-alcohol level, too: .005 compared to Montana's .008.  Not surprisingly, per capita,  Italy has fewer road fatalities due to driving under the influence than Montana.

I still can't figure out what about Italy's culture makes the relationship with alcohol so much saner here than back home. At 16, kids can drink wine and beer, and while it is not unusual to see a kid or two with a smoke and beer on our morning walk to the girls' school, it is not common, either. I have seen people under the influence on a weekend night, but frankly they seemed more drugged-out than drunk, and were clearly in the "I have a problem" section of life. Elderly people are also seen at all hours, sitting down with their friends, from morning to later afternoon, clearly drinking something alcoholic. The bar where we often pass is so filled with elderly people drinking that I cannot discern if I feel fearful of old age or eager to reach it. Does a small glass of bubbly at 9:00 am smell like a bright day or a long day ahead? These men seem happy enough, so I like to think the former.

Wine is, of course, served with everything and all celebratory meals, and hailed as a cure-all.  Red wine should be drunk if you have a stomach ache, an iron problem, a sleep disorder, and more. Michelangelo, I have read, was given wine as a baby, and up until recently wine was used as a soother for babies suffering from teething pain. Besides that, you can get a truly fabulous bottle of wine for under 10 Euros: a bottle that would cost four times that back home. More importantly, at those prices, everyone can afford delicious and special wine. I like to think that even the youngest wine drinker in Italy appreciates the quality, and savors the glass.

All of this was swirling in my mind as I walked back to our apartment after dropping off the girls at school. Covering my mouth with my scarf to filter the lingering cigarette smoke, car fumes, and smoggy air on today's cold and bright winter morning, I reminded myself: every culture has its habits and follies, its way of life. Lots of times here, it sure feels like Missoula and Mantova could learn a lot from each other.
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