The winters in Montana are long and bleak. They are also tricky: sometime around the end of February when you need spring weather to come, the temperatures heat for a day or two, and everyone runs around in flip flops and T-shirts: two days later, snow blows in and shoos the sun away, and winter or a very cold spring will remain until at least mid-April. So, when the temperature got warmer in Mantova -- warm enough to change to our lighter jackets-- a month ago, I waited for the second freeze, the next winter, to come. Instead, every week since has brought warmer days and more sun. Today, finally, I could only embrace it: the restaurants have moved their tables outside and the stores have changed their clothes offerings to those with light fabrics and colors. Even the produce has changed: red tomatoes, bright green asparagus, dark black plums, and "fruit of the forest" are offered by the green grocers. Spring has arrived in Italy.
I am so struck by how warm and beautiful it is, I proclaim my delight to everyone.
"It is so nice today! So hot!" [To my favorite green grocer] His response: Yes.
"Can't you believe this weather! Fabulous!!" [To my Italian acquaintance] Her response: Yes.
"Beautiful day today! Is this normal? Is this STAYING?" [To an elderly man at the park] His response: Yes.
I often feel this way here: just not quite "in the know" of what is generally known.
For example, I did not know that in Italy, balloons are super scary for small children and not an appropriate toy for sharing. Earlier this week, I bought a pack of balloons to bring to the park for Rachel, Nick, and me to play with. I blew-up a few, and noticed little kids looking in our direction. Since Italian children are always told to share -- sharing toys is a big "do" on Italian playgrounds, this I know -- I thought I would give our balloons to some of the younger children. I first offered our big, green, balloon to a little girl. She shook her hear and grabbed her mother's leg. "She can have this," I said, looking up to the mother while kneeling near the little girl. "Oh no," said the mother, taking her away from me "she does not like balloons." Nick and I looked at each other and shrugged. Later, a little boy of almost 2 toddled over to me, smiling a half-toothed grin at the balloon in my hand. "He can take it, " I said to his grandfather, smiling. "Oh dear, no. A balloon is much to scary for him, and he doesn't know about the loud noise it makes." At that moment, Rachel pushed the balloon into the nearby bush and it popped. The little boy jumped up and ran to his grandfather. "I guess he does now," I told Nicholas quietly. "Mom," Nick said, "just keep the balloons. I don't think anyone wants them." Right.
Of course, I have learned some of the things here that are "common knowledge." I know my children should not touch any toy EVER in a toy store. I know to weigh the fruit and vegetables and take them with a plastic mitt. I know to pay bills in a clean, white envelope. I know not to ask for things straight-on. I know to wait for the ubiquitous white receipt after every. single. transaction.
And today I know there is a springtime in Italy, it comes on March 21, and it is marvelous.
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