Meet the Papabili: a Handy Guide to the Popefuls of Conclave 2013

As you likely already know (especially if you follow this blog, as it’s just about all I can think about right now) the papal election is only a day away. It’s probably about time we take a look at the front-runners before we Roman Catholics head to the polls. Oh, right, I forgot. We don’t get to pick our leader.

Be that as it may, I know that when I’m standing in that crowd of 100,000 or more people in St. Peter’s Square, waiting for the name of the new pope to be announced, I’m going to want to know whether to cheer with abandon and hope for the future of the church, or shake my head and think, “More of the same…”

After my last two mega-posts (particularly yesterday’s ridiculous 3,162-word tome that took me nearly literally the entire day to write), my solicitous maritino tactfully suggested that if I wanted my readers to actually read my posts (all the way through), I’d do best to consider shortening them just a tad. And as unpleasant as it is to admit your spouse is right, I think he is. Now, if I had a typical Italian husband, this is where I’d probably insert a joke about him only being concerned that my over-zealous blogging was preventing me from preparing his beloved nightly pasta. No, dearest bloglings, not even a hint! Yes, I got one of the good ones, but more on that another time (definitely after conclave).

So back to our friendly cardinals, one of who will have, in just a few days, the power to change the world. In Italian, a cardinal who is considered a strong candidate for the papacy is called a papabile (plural: papabili), literally pope-able. Frankly, I prefer Stephen Colbert’s term, “Popeful.”

Out of the 115 cardinal-electors participating in conclave this year, there are according to some up to 30 papabili, although for reasons mentioned above, I will be writing a much more abbreviated list.

Cardinal Angelo Scola of Italy. Archbishop of Milan.

Card. Scola is the clear front runner for this race. He’s got what some people consider the perfect combination of an Italian with tons of experience, and yet someone who has never actually worked inside the Vatican, so he can’t be blamed for the recent mismanagement of the Church. Out of all the others, he is the cardinal considered most likely to gain the 2/3 majority. But in Rome there is an expression, “He who goes into a conclave a pope, comes out a cardinal.” So maybe we shouldn’t bet on Scola yet. (Although he’s being given excellent odds with the bookies in town!) What could go against him: his name was dropped in the Vatileaks scandal last year as someone who should replace Benedict XVI.

Cardinal Leonardo Sandri of Argentina. Prefect for the Congregations of the Eastern Churches.

A few weeks ago, I predicted Card. Sandri for pope, and I still think he has a good shot, but in recent weeks, it’s seeming less likely. No one seems to be talking about him. Still, to me, on paper, Sandri is the ideal candidate. He covers all the bases for what it is believed the cardinals are looking for in the future pope: as a South American he has a deep understanding of the church outside Europe, but he has also spent most of his life in Italy and has worked as an high-level administrator in the Vatican. He proved himself as a good organizer when he worked directly under John Paul II. What could go against him: he could be blamed for the poor organization in the Vatican of recent years (although he left his previous position several years ago).

Cardinal Séan Patrick O’Malley of the United States. Archbishop of Boston.

If Card. Sandri is who I think could become pope, Card. O’Malley is who I hope will become pope. I was first introduced to him by Patricia Thomas on her wonderful blog, Mozzarella Mamma, which I have mentioned several times lately. Read her post on him, as she is a fan as well, for much more insight than I could hope to give. I just have a gut reaction to O’Malley. First of all, he’s a monk, and you can’t get much humbler than that. He shuns the Cardinal red and instead wears a simple cassock and hood of a Capuchin as he goes about his business here in Rome. He took over in Boston after the Bernard Law fiasco, and has worked tirelessly advocating for the victims of sex abuse by priests. What could go against him: he is well known for his reputation as a reformer, and the big Italian bloc inside the Vatican curia will do anything to keep him from becoming pope and challenging their status quo. But miracles can happen!

Cardinal Timothy Dolan of the United States. Archbishop of New York.

Card. Dolan is an energetic powerhouse of a cardinal, and despite being a dreaded American, he is generally well liked by the Italian faction. The Italian paper La Repubblica calls him a “shadow candidate,” as he could be a potential compromise candidate for the two opposing factions, being called the Romans vs. the Reformers. While certainly not as change-hungry as O’Malley, Dolan has acknowledged that the church is in crisis and some reform is necessary. What I like about him is that he gets things done. He prefers to do things himself, instead of delegating them to others, which can only be a good thing. What could go against him: he is seen by some as “too American,” with little understanding of the rest of the world, and very poor foreign language skills.

Cardinal Odilo Pedro Scherer of Brazil. Archbishop of Sao Paolo.

There has been lots of talk lately about this Brazilian candidate of German descent. He is highly favored to be elected, particularly because of his close ties with those in power in the Vatican curia. But my mother always said, “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all,” so… Next!

Cardinal Luis Antonio Tagle of the Philippines. Archbishop of Manila.

I’d like to imagine a Roman Catholic Church in which a man like Cardinal Tagle could be elected. Vatican expert John L. Allen says that if the cardinals’ first priority were to have a pope who would be a moving, rousing evangelizer, capable of “setting people on fire with enthusiasm for the faith, and if they wanted that evangelizer to come from outside the West," Tagle would be the obvious choice. He is only 55 years old, and widely considered the most charismatic and dynamic candidate, and is also admired for his simplicity and humility, (he gets around only by bike or on public transport). What could go against him: there are very few electors from Asia, and without a strong faction behind him, he will have a hard time gaining the 2/3 majority. He also is very unfamiliar with the workings of the Vatican. (Or maybe that’s a good thing?)

Cardinal Marc Ouellet of Canada. Prefect of the Congregation for Bishops.

Card Ouellet’s combination of fierce intellect, near-fluency in six languages, and several years of missionary experience in Colombia makes him a very interesting candidate for pope. To that he combines years of experience inside the Vatican. What could go against him: He is said to radiate prayerfulness and spirituality, which you would think would be ideal characteristics in a pope, but some think he might be overlooked because his inherent goodness might make it difficult for him to make the tough decisions that inevitably await a pope.

Cardinal Christoph Schonborn of Austria. Archbishop of Vienna.

John L. Allen, in his series of articles, Papabile of the Day, the Men who could be Pope, describes Card. Schonborn as “either an obvious, slam-dunk contender or somebody who's basically taken himself out of the running.” He’s something of a wild card, and not the most diplomatic of cardinals, but he has spoken out strongly against the sex abuse issues inside the church (he, along with Card. Tagle, are the only two papabili not implicated in any way in any of the sex abuse cover-ups). In fact, he stirred up more than a little trouble with Secretary of State Bertone and some other big-wigs in the Vatican curia, and he is definitely not in their good books. This might just work in his favor for those cardinals who are desirous of a change to the “old guard” and looking for someone who has no qualms about standing up to his opponents. What could go against him: those very same big-wigs will stop at nothing to prevent him from becoming pope, as they would probably all lose their cushy positions. Perhaps even more damning, the situation in Austria is a mess, which makes it look like he’s lacking in the all-important organizational and administrative department.

Cardinal Peter Turkson of Ghana. President for the Pontifical Council for Justice and Peace.
Getting the number three best odds with bookies is the friendly, popular and dynamic Card Turkson, the most likely out of all the African candidates. Turkson is favored both for his long pastoral experience of 17 years in the the diocese of Cape Coast, and for his administrative skills, proven in his current post. In addition, he conveniently answers the desire for a pope to represent the most growing Catholic population, yet without being an outsider. Another plus is his advocation for Catholic/Muslim relations, a very timely plus on his resume. What could go against him: a few recent shenanigans have asked many to question his judgement. He once showed biased and already discredited YouTube video on Muslim immigration in Europe at a synod, he has made questionable remarks linking homosexuality with pedophilia, and some claim he is unabashedly campaigning for the papacy (posters with his face mysteriously appeared around Rome with the words "Vota Turkson").

Whoever is elected in the coming days (or weeks?), I think just having so many far flung countries represented on this list is a very good sign for the future of the Church. But what about you? Who do you think will be the next pope? Someone on this list or one of the number of other papabili? I’d love to hear who you’re predicting and why, so please leave a comment! (If you can't find the comment button, click on the title of the post and it should appear at the bottom.)

PS If you want to take a more active role in this conclave, you can adopt your very own cardinal! I’m not kidding. This website will assign you a cardinal-elector at random to pray for during conclave. Over 200,000 people have already signed up.

More conclave posts: 

A Short* History of Conclave

How Conlave works: all the Rules and Rituals of the Papal Election

Image sources: 1, all others

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The Best of the Blogs: Rome and Beyond

I’m excited to announce a new feature on the blog: This Week in Rome. Every weekend, I will be linking to my favorite articles, blog posts, videos and other goodies found on the Internets that week. Although I’m calling it This Week in Rome, and I expect the majority of items I post will be about this lovely city’o’mine, it will not be limited to Rome, but may include anything from around Italy and the world that I think would be of interested to my readers.

Now you all know how good I am at keeping up with my weekly posts! You’ll recall my weekly bi-yearly history posts I dash out every Monday whenever I can find the time. But this is going to be different! I can no longer keep these gems to myself. When I read something fascinating, or hilarious, or spot-on true, I’ve just got to share it with you beloved bloglings, and this is where I plan to do it.

Before this feature is officially unveiled at the end of next week, I’d like to take this opportunity to sing the praises of just a few of my very favorite blogs, although there are many more wonderful ones out there. They are all on my blogroll, but a list of names often do not do justice to the uniqueness of each, so I want to give you a little taste of them here, as they are sure to show up often on my weekly review posts.

So, in no particular order:

Mozzarella Mamma

Patricia Thomas is a foreign correspondent for Associated Press Television News, and one of the few foreign journalists with accredited access to the Vatican. Although her blog covers many fascinating news stories, it is also a chronicle of her life as a mamma in Italy, raising three children with her Italian husband, juggling her career and family life in a land where being a mamma comes with some enormous expectations.

Un’Americana a Roma

If you’re interested in delving into the complex psyche of the average Italian, this blog is the perfect primer. Shelley Ruelle has called Rome home for over a decade, and in that time has garnered a keen understanding of the workings of the Italian mind. She blogs about everything from Italian politics to Roman culture to the random absurdities of life in Italy, all with a refreshing dose of honesty and plenty of hilarious commentary.

Revealed Rome

This is the perfect blog for people who are planning a trip to Rome and want all the insider advice and tricks. Amanda Ruggeri is an indefatigable writer who will fill you in on all of Rome’s best kept secrets, and make sure you don’t fall into any of the many dreaded tourist traps this lovely city so helpfully provides. She’s got her finger on Rome’s pulse, and doesn’t miss any of the most important cultural events that hit the city.

Parla Food

There is one question I get more than any other from friends, friends of friends, clients, and anyone I have ever come into contact with, who is planning a trip to Rome: Where should I eat? And my response is invariable: ask Katie Parla. Katie is a certified sommelier and holds a Masters in Italian Gastronomic Culture, so it’s safe to say she knows what she’s talking about. She has spent the last 10 years exploring Rome’s culinary jungle, her taste is impeccable and she tells it like it is. She blogs about every gastronomic option in the city, from greasy street food to Michelin-starred excellence, from craft beer to organic wine, from traditional Roman cuisine to authentic Ethiopian, Korean or Indian, and everything in between.

Diario di una Studentessa Matta (Diary of a Mad Student)

Melissa Muldoon may not be an Italian resident, but this linguistically gifted American woman has mastered the Italian language more than many of us who live here full time. After falling in love with this undeniably gorgeous language during her many trips to Italy, she decided to perfect it by regular blogging… IN ITALIAN! To be honest, I don’t know how she does it. I have a hard enough time stringing together a coherent sentence in my native tongue. If you’d like to improve your own Italian skills, reading is one of the best ways, so hop over to her blog to read her musings about Italy, all in Dante’s glorious Tuscan.

Letters from Florence

When I feel like laughing until I practically burst a spleen, all the while nodding my head in emphatic agreement, and crying with gratitude that there is somebody out there who has the same gripes and 

frustrations with life in Italy, but is able to express them with hysterical and beautifully crafted prose, I visit this site. Elizabeth Petrosian lives with her family near Florence and writes about all aspects of life in Italy, with side-splitting hilarity and not a grain of sugar-coating. Her most priceless posts tell of the antics of her almost unbelievably horrid in-laws.

Senza Bidet

There are quite a lot of us American expats living in Rome and blogging about the craziness that such a life entails. But what if the shoe were on the other foot? Laura is Italian, born and raised in Rome, with an American husband and two half-and-half kids. They live in LA and Laura blogs in Italian about the things that madden or bewilder her as an Italian expat in the US. For example, why does her doctor not acknowledge the dangers of colpo d’aria, why are her American friends so shocked when she tells her little boy, “Se non te stai zitto, t'ammazzo di botte!” (I’ll beat you to death if you don't shut up), and why, God, why, are there no bidets in America?!

Check out these amazing blogs; I promise you won’t be disappointed! I only hope that after you’ve discovered them, you’ll still have time to visit my little blog! Stay tuned for my upcoming This Week in Rome feature, to be inaugurated next weekend.

What other exceptional Rome or Italy blogs do you love?

All images are copyright of the authors of the respective blogs.

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My secret Italian dream-job

Perugia, April 2005

I have a secret dream, dear bloglings. A deep, burning desire that comes upon me strongly almost every time I walk down a busy street in Rome, and often when I'm walking down a quiet one.

I want to be a vigilessa. A lady traffic-cop.

Now I don't mean that I actually think that it could happen, or that I would ever go through with such a thing--even if it were possible.

But every time I see someone double- or triple-parked, I long to flip out a ticket pad and write them a big fat multa, right on the spot. Or better yet, get their oversized (and completely unnecessary) SUV towed far, far away. Every time I see some unprincipled maniac swerve to avoid a tottering old lady on the crosswalk, coming perilously close to knocking her to the ground, my blood starts to boil and I wish I had the power to stop them. To make them see that what they are doing is not only a violation but a reckless endangerment of their fellow citizen. Every time I see someone riding in the front passenger seat with a baby in their lap, I want to shout, "You won't take your baby out on a sweltering summer day without a woolen undershirt, but you're fine with letting her fly through a windshield? For shame!" Every time an ambulance is blaring down the street, only to be held up in traffic because no one will pull over to let it pass, I wish I could make them imagine it was someone they loved in that ambulance, in desperate need of a doctor.

I know there are much more terrible atrocities in the world, but what bothers me is that these things are done with such complacence, such indifference, and so often. I see at least one of these things happen every single day. And no one seems to bat an eye; it is so utterly accepted.

How I long to bring these reprobates to justice. How I yearn to show these vile degenerates that there are consequences for their shameless, selfish behavior. How I would delight in their sputtering, indignant outrage at being expected to obey their city's laws, laws that were only designed to protect them and their community, their shock at being make to recognize that their convenience should not come at the cost of another person's safety and peace of mind.

I would write so many tickets I would get carpal tunnel and tendinitis. I would have the tow truck company on speed dial. I would be the nightmare of every double-parking, red-light-running, texting-while-driving, child-endangering person who dared to get behind the wheel of a car. I would inspire terror in every last rione.

But, no. It is not to be. I can do nothing.

Sure, I can glare at them until my eyes are sore. I can throw them a few local gestures so maybe they'll understand. I can even shout obscenities that they'll never hear. A friend of mine will happily testify that I once slammed my hands down on the hood of a car as I was crossing a sidewalk when the driver thought it was okay to inch so close to me that her bumper was actually touching my knees. I might even scribble down a license plate number when I see something truly heinous, but even if I reported it what good would it do?

As I walked from my bus stop back to my apartment yesterday, I witnessed a well-dressed businessman on a scooter with a small boy on the back and a toddler on the front. The toddler had no helmet. Maybe daddy's reasoning is that the smaller the head, the less it will be damaged if it smashes into asphalt. Mere seconds later I saw a man texting with his phone inches from his face as he sped down the street. And as if this wasn't enough to start me seething, the next car that passed had a friendly-looking mother and her little girl standing up in the back seat, leaning through the two front seats to chat with her mom. As I stared wide-eyed at the little girl, I noticed the mother smile at me. She probably thought I was admiring her child. This all happened in less than a minute.

As I turned to walk onto my own street, I could barely make it onto the sidewalk. My street has one of those imaginary sidewalks, where there is no actual curb, nothing to separate the pedestrian from the homicidal drivers but a faded blue line of paint. Nothing to stop those drivers from parking right on the narrow path we pedestrians rely on to avoid getting mowed down. Nothing to stop them from inventing parking spots that don't exist, blocking the end of the sidewalk so that anything thicker than the legs of Kate Moss would never be able to fit through, God forbid a parent with a baby carriage or someone in a wheelchair. Nothing to stop them, when their car won't fit in the parallel parking spot, from parking diagonally, with the nose of their car virtually touching the wall of the building, so that even Kate Moss would have to walk out into the street to get around it. Nothing, that is, except...

Super-Vigilessa!!

I see myself flying in to save the day, with a navy blue cape, white leather gloves, and a white, cone-shaped helmet (see photo above). With a flick of my whip I can yank cell phones out of drivers' hands, disintegrating them with a twinkle of my eye. I blow my whistle and drivers' brakes are instantly hit, so the little old lady can make it safely across the street without having to fear for her life. Any cars parked irresponsibly will be crushed with a single glace. I would have to wear a mask, because the percentage of villains (bad parkers/drivers) in this city is so extremely high, my life would be in constant danger. But I would be brave, and fight traffic crime to my dying breath. I would be the hero of every pedestrian whose only dream is to be able to use a crosswalk without getting crushed, or to open their front door without finding a parked car blocking it. Ah, I can see it all so clearly.

But it'll never happen. Because in Italy, the only thing more important that doing your job...let me rephrase that...one of several things more important than doing your job is looking good while you're doing your job. So in Italy, when traffic cops are not posing for photographs in a sunny square in Perugia (see photo above) they are doing this.

It's lovely. Don't get me wrong. Very picturesque. That's why I took a picture of it. But it doesn't actually accomplish anything. It doesn't make me, a pedestrian, feel any safer.

I have to cross Via Ostiense at least twice a day, and every time I step onto those zebra stripes, I take my life in my hands. Or rather, I put my life into the hands of unscrupulous lunatics who, at best, don't give a damn how close they get to me as long as they manage to swerve around me as quickly as possible, and at worst, figure that even if they do hit me, they'll probably be able to get away, and if not, the consequences won't be too bad. It's not like they'll do jail time, maybe just a little fine.

And that's the root of the problem: no consequences. My staunchly law-abiding Maritino will often grumble about the double-parked cars on a street we often take, as it causes major back-ups because, although it's a two-way street, only one lane of cars at a time can fit down it, due to all the double-parkers. It makes him almost as angry as it makes me. This is when I smugly inform him that if his country's laws were actually ENFORCED, certainly not everybody, but most people would stop breaking them.

But that will never happen, will it?

Italy needs a Super-Vigilessa.... why can't it be me?

All photos by author

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So you want to move to Rome? My advice: do it!

I began writing this post in my head last night, as I was trying to fall asleep (the only free time I have these days, as my dearth of blog posts testifies). The idea for this post came to me on the heels of some amazing friends who have been making stops in Rome in the past weeks. Seeing Rome through fresh eyes never fails to remind me of how amazing this city is, and how unbelievably lucky I feel to live here.

View from Via dei Fori Imperiali, photo by Giulio Menna

It is so easy to get bogged down by the negative things about this city. Every city on earth has its unpleasant aspects, but Rome’s can be so glaringly obvious and pervasive (especially as one transitions from happy-go-lucky expat to permanent resident) that it is easy to lose sight of the innumerable wonderful things, the things that made most of us expats move here in the first place.

In the space of two weeks, I have been blessed by the appearances of a number of friends, none of whom live in Rome, but all of whom have a connection with it. Cristina and Tim are ex-expats, who lived here for years and were some of my first friends when I arrived. They have both moved on to have fabulous careers outside Italy, but can’t help feel that magnetic pull to allure of this city, and are even tempted, every so often, to chuck it all and come back (although –sadly for me– I know they won’t).

Another is India, a former yoga student of mine who spent 18 magical months here as an adolescent and now, at 20, wouldn’t be able to survive a year without at least one week spent in Rome. She visits every July and her enthusiasm for Rome is contagious.

And then there’s Maeve. Were it not for a blossoming opera career in New York, she would have taken up residence in this inimitable town long ago. But, as with most musicians, career comes first, and so she’s content to visit once a year, study the language and soak up the culture. Spending time with these four amazing people has renewed my delight in Rome. After a couple of months of more griping than usual about this fair city (and its ever so difficult residents), thanks to my friends I have returned to my “default setting” of being enchanted with my adopted hometown.

Detail of Villa Medici, photo by Patrizia Ferri

And this led me to think about the people I know who aren’t happy to come here only for short visits. People who, like me, can’t help but heed that insistent voice that tells us there is no other place for us, at least at this moment in time, than Rome*. That to live anywhere else would be to deny one of the deepest desires of our souls.

People like my new friend Margaret, who even as I write this is plotting her move here. Although at a completely different stage in her life than I was as I schemed to find a way to live here 8 years ago, she nevertheless reminds me of exactly how I felt when the thought of living in Rome was not yet a reality.

People like travel writer and fellow blogger Keane Li who finds charm and fascination in every angle of the city, and captures them so compellingly in his writing. He asked me recently, in a message that I have shamefully yet to reply to, what advice I could give him on how to make the transition to live here permanently. Maybe I haven’t replied because it’s a big question. There are so many things to consider, including finances, the language barrier, work permits, the bureaucratic nightmare of becoming a legal resident, the horrifying discrepancy between salaries and living expenses, not to mention the shock of up and leaving your home, job, family, friends and culture in one fell swoop.

But, unlike most big questions, this one has a short answer:

Do it.

At the risk of sounding like a decades-old marketing campaign, just do it. There will be so many people, both those who have attempted such a move and those who would never dare, who will tell you it’s not possible, or better yet, that it’s not worth it. That it’s a big risk, it’s financially draining, it stagnates your career, and so on. All this, and for what? Just to live in a foreign country? Life will still go on, just as before.

Detail of the Fountain of the Triton by Gianlorenzo Berlini, photo by SpirosK

Yes, life will go one, and sometimes more frustratingly than before (I wrote about this in a guest post not long ago) and it’s important not to imagine that life will be as easy and deliciously carefree as Woody Allen and Julia Roberts make it seem in the movies. But naysayers who get off on telling others how things can’t be done are generally just smarting because their own experiences were less than ideal.

Don’t listen to them. You have a desire, a calling, even. You can’t explain it; you just know. Don’t let anyone change your mind. Hearing other people’s experiences is necessary, but ultimately, only you know what is right for you.

I felt this unexplainable calling too, from a very young age, as I’ve written about before. I didn’t know why I was supposed to be here. I just knew that I had to come, and stay. (PS Coming is easy; it’s the staying that is the hard part.) So come I did, and let me tell you, the first year was hard, nothing like the month-long study trips I had taken years before. But I toughed it out; I just knew I was supposed to be here, and now I realize why: his name is Claudio. (Not that he’s the only reason, of course! My lifestyle here alone is enough of a reward.)

I don’t intend to suggest that everyone who moves to Rome should stay here indefinitely. Some people come for six months or a year, get their fill of gelato and amatriciana and move back home, richer and wiser for their experiences. And there are others who stay 10, 20 years, or even their whole lives. Whatever the case, if you want to be here, come. It goes without saying, be prepared. Save up some money, learn the basics of the language, have a plan for how to make money, and don’t be too flippant about legal requirements (it’s not 2005 anymore), but just come. Things will work themselves out.

Photo by Mark Turner

It won’t be without sacrifices. You may end up living on a fraction of what you are used to in your home country, and some may see this as a step down on the socio-economic ladder, but I see it as an opportunity to learn to live with less. You’re used to living in a two-storey house? Try a cozy one-bedroom for a change, or move in with roommates, making new friends in the process. Think you can’t live without your SUV? Discover the freedom of commuting by bicycle. What you will receive in cultural, gastronomic and artistic wealth will more than make up for any temporary material lack you might feel.

I truly believe that when you are doing what you are meant to be doing, things have a way of working out. Not always exactly as you had envisioned, but brilliantly nonetheless. So if you really, really want it, take the risk. Give notice. Buy those tickets.

Source

In short, just come. And be sure to look me up when you get here.

*Or Paris, or Tuscany, or Spain, or wherever it is your heart wants to be

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Reading Italian Maps

Click here to read my interview over at Reading Italian Maps. Maja, the author of that fantastic blog, is starting a feature clevered entitled The X-pat Factor, in which she will be regularly interviewing expatriates living, working and blogging in Italy. I was thrilled to be her first subject! Check it out, particularly if you are considering taking the plunge yourself to move to Italy!

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Fa Bìo - Best Sandwich Shop in Rome

In my country of birth, the sandwich has been elevated to an art form. You can find the most inventive combinations under the sun between two pieces of bread, and that bread is likely to be sourdough, pumpernickel or something equally tasty.

In my adoptive country, however, I cannot say the same is true. Despite the catchy name, panini are often rather pathetic. Usually served on a ciabatta (literally: slipper, as in, the thing you wear around the house on each foot), a flat, oblong roll that is crunchy to the point of being annoying, panini are usually composed of two, maximum three (if you’re lucky) ingredients, that can range from tomatoes to mozzarella to prosciutto. Wow, decisions, decisions!

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Any publicity is good publicity!

Apologies for the week-long silence! My course, as much as I am loving it, has claimed the already insignifant amount of free time I possessed! My hilarously ambitious idea to post after each class or visit is proving laughably impossible. Perhaps once the course is finished I can come up with some kind of class-by-class summary.

This past Friday, I was surprised and delighted to learn that a journalist for the important Italian daily newspaper, Il Fatto Quotidiano, had not only stumbled upon my blog, but had written about one of my posts on the official blog of the paper. When I read her post thoroughly and discovered she was critisizing me, I was no less delighted. You may remember my post about the article in the Daily Telegraph misleadingly claiming that Italian women are the most unhappy in Europe. Il Fatto Quotidiano's Marika Borrelli wrote a post about the same subject, taking a much different angle. She used the article as a launching pad to discuss the gender issues in this country. Most of what she wrote is very true, and the discussion she is opening is very needed right now. I, as you may have read, treated the subject a bit more lightly, which she didn't like very much.

Here's what she had to say regarding moi:

"In Italia le questioni di genere, nonostante la tragicità del problema che i dati evidenziano, sono trattate con indifferenza se non addirittura con sufficienza. Ho pure letto un post di una non-italiana (Tiffany Parks) che liquidava sbrigativamente la statistica riportata su The Telegraph. Ma la Parks parla da privilegiata, quasi stupendosi: non vive la vita delle precarie o delle donne-mamme-figlie-mogli alle prese con sanità, scuola, soldi-che-non-bastano, lavoro-che-non-c’è."

(Translation: "In Italy gender issues, despite the tragic nature of the problem that the data shows, are treated with indifference if not with disdain. I also read a post by a non-Italian (Tiffany Parks), which summarily dismissed the statistic reported in The Telegraph. But Ms. Parks speaks as a member of the privileged class, almost astonished: she doesn't live a precarious life, the life of the woman/wife/mother/daughter struggling with health, education, not enough money, and a job that doesn't exist.")

--and later--

"...non si parlerà mai abbastanza delle questioni di genere in questa Italia di oggi. Sono convinta che sia necessario un aumento di consapevolezza del problema, a cominciare dalle stesse donne al fine di modificare l’opinione comune generale. Tiffany Parks compresa."

(Translation: "...gender issues are not discussed enough in today's Italy. I am convinced that it is necessary to increase awareness of the problem, starting with the women themselves in order to change the opinion of the whole community. Including Tiffany Parks.")

I appreciated her mentioning my blog, and I must admit how surprised I was to come to the attention of a journalist at an important national daily. But I have to conclude that either she didn’t fully read my post, she didn’t completely understand it, or she intentionally misinterpreted it. I will not hazard a guess as to which, but I will plead my case.

I began my post not by “summarily dismissing” the statistics the Telegraph reported, as she claims, but by expressing my doubt that they were accurate, the quality of the “article” being blatantly shoddy. I acknowledged the difficult position that Italian women find themselves in, but chose not to focus on the larger gender issues, (mine is not a journalistic blog) but instead to address the one I find most perplexing (and the one most harped upon by the article): the unequal division of household chores in Italian homes. I will not reiterate what I previously wrote, but I adamantly deny I “treat with indifference” the problematic political and social position of women in Italy which was not even the subject of my post. My message was, if anything, more positive: that—perhaps—the solution for pampered men is simple: stop pampering them! Perhaps by putting some of the blame on the women for their drudge-like situation at home was offensive to Ms. Borrelli. I can only respond by reiterating that I was only referring to one small part of this large “gender issue” she writes of. I am hardly claiming the sexualization of women in the media (for example) is the fault of women themselves.

I love that she calls me a “non-Italian,” as if that in itself is an insult, barring me from being able to form any opinion about Italians. Even more amusing (and infuriating) is her assumption of my social and economic status. How in the world does she imagine she knows? Does being a foreigner and having a passion for Roman history and art naturally preclude me from having my own financial strife? And even if I had no financial worries, I hardly see how that should hinder me from recognizing the fact that Italian women tend to insist upon waiting on their men hand and foot, and perhaps that is why the said men don’t offer to do their share of the work.

Here is the response I left on her blog:

“Innanzitutto ti ringrazio per aver ritenuto di utilizzare anche un mio post (che tu non condividi, ma, come dici tu, siamo qui per “proporre e discutere, non scannarci”) come apripista di un importante dibattito in merito alla “questione di genere” che ci è tanto a cuore: la condizione generale delle donne in Italia. Ma, ci tengo a definire un paio di questioni, che a mio avviso si evincono chiaramente dal mio post, che credo tu abbia letto nella sua interezza. Innanzitutto ribadisco il mio generale scetticismo in merito alle cosiddette statistiche, fatte su un campione di donne non del tutto definito (l’articolo del Telegraph prima parla solo di casalinghe e poi di donne in generale) e condotte su un campione esiguo (4000 donne dovrebbero rappresentare l’intera Europa!) e poi dai…. credi davvero che il 70% degli uomini italiani non abbia mai usato il forno? E che il 95% non abbia mai svuotato la lavatrice!? Tu stessa da giornalista potrai convenire con me della poca affidabilità di fonti di questo tipo. Anche alcuni tuoi lettori, tra l’altro, nei commenti propongono la mia perplessità. Posso comunque dirti che anche io come te, come ho scritto nel mio post, nella sua seconda parte, sono ben al corrente delle problematiche che devono affrontare molte donne in questo “nostro” paese (si lo so, sono una NON-ITALIANA, ma amo così tanto l’Italia da definirla nostro paese, dal momento che ci vivo, ci lavoro, ci pago le tasse e mi ci sono sposata). Conosco bene la difficoltà delle mamme single, di chi ha perso lavoro dopo una gravidanza, di chi fatica ad arrivare a fine mese.

"Ma in conclusione, trattando il mio blog di aspetti prevalentemente leggeri, ho affrontato una parte in particolare del pezzo del Telegraph quella trattata nello stesso pezzo ai paragrafi 4 e 5, ovvero la collaborazione degli uomini nelle faccende di casa! Un po’ anche con ironia, come avrai letto. Quindi, Marika, io non tratto con indifferenza se non addirittura con sufficienza le questioni di genere, e se “liquido sbrigativamente” la statistica del Telegraph, come tu dici, è per i motivi sopra esposti. Non credo quindi io debba modificare la mia opinione, certamente ampliarla, rifletterla, ma non per mancanza di consapevolezza. Ti invito a rileggere il mio post con un po’ piu’ di ironia, e magari potremmo lanciare un messaggio positivo e di fiducia, come io tento di fare: sveglia ragazze, nelle nostre mani sono le redini della nostra vita! Scrolliamoci di dosso questo senso di fatalismo… all’italiana?

“P.S. non credo di essere così privilegiata, si, sono felice e positiva e propositiva.. anche se ho un contratto a tempo determinato!

(Translation: “First of all thank you for using my post (even if you don’t agree with it, but as you say, we are here “to propose and discuss, not be at each other’s throats”) as an opening of an important debate on the "gender issue" that is very near to both our hearts: the general condition of women in Italy. But I would like to define a couple of questions that are clear from my post, which I imagine you have read in its entirety. First, I reiterate my general skepticism about the so-called statistics, made on a sample of women not fully defined (the Telegraph article first mentions only “housewives” and then women in general) and conducted on a small sample (4000 women should represent the whole of Europe?) and then, come on, do you really believe that 70% of Italian men has never used an oven? And that 95% have never emptied the washing machine!? As a journalist you must agree with me about the unreliability of such sources. Even some of your readers in their comments echo my perplexity. However, I can tell you, as I wrote in the second part of my post, that like you, I am well aware of the problems that many women face in "our" country (yes, I know, I am a NON-ITALIAN, but I love Italy enough to call it “our country”, since I live here, I work here, I pay taxes here and I got married here). I am aware of the difficulties of single mothers, of those who lost their jobs after a pregnancy, and those who struggle to make ends meet.

“But in the end, using my blog for prevalently light discussions, I focused on a particular part of the piece in the Telegraph, specifically paragraphs 4 and 5, which discuss the collaboration of men in household chores, and with a bit of irony, as you will have read. So, Marika, I do not “treat with indifference if not with disdain” gender issues, and if I "brushed aside" the statistics of the Telegraph, as you say, is for the above reasons. I do not believe I need to change my opinion, although certainly expand and reflect upon it, but not for a lack of awareness. I invite you to reread my post with a little more irony, and maybe we could send a positive, hopeful message, as I try to do: Wake up, girls, let’s take the reins of life in our hands! Let’s throw off this sense of (Italian?) fatalism!

“P.S. I do not consider myself a member of the privileged class: I’m happy and positive and proactive… even though I have a fixed-term contract!”)

Whew. I promise never to write such a long post again. Goodnight, bloglings.

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The Pines of Bangkok? I don't think so.

Recently, Travel & Leisure Magazine came up with this year's World's Best Awards. Their readers rank everything from cities to hotels, spas and airlines, by region and worldwide. This was released back in July, but as usual, I'm a little out of the loop. It's hard to keep your finger on the pulse of the world when you live in eternally laid-back Rome.

Here are the top 10 cities:

Bangkok

Florence

Rome

New York

Istanbul
Cape Town
Siem Reap (Cambodia)
Sydney
Barcelona

Paris

Cities were judged based on sights, culture/arts, restaurants/food, people, shopping and value.

All I can say is:

Bangkok?
(long pause)
Really?

I mean... really? I've been to Bangkok and its definitely a cool city. It has lots of brightly colored temples, giant reclining buddhas, really good cheap massage, and incredible hotels at unbelievably low prices. The people are, for the most part, very friendly. If you like Thai food, then the food is amazing. There's a floating market and lots of gritty little back alleys with street food that costs pennies, and you can zip around in rickshaws, or if you're a little more daring, on motorcycle taxis. I had a thoroughly enjoyable time and would happily go back.

But to win Best City? And this is the second year in a row? I don't get it. As Asian cities go I infinitely preferred Mumbai, Singapore and Penang. And Thailand, as a country, offers many more spectacular sights than their capital city: the jungles, the beaches, the breath-taking rocky islands jutting out of the sea. If I only had a week in Thailand, I wouldn't spend more than a day in Bangkok. It makes me wonder if people didn't vote for Bangkok just to try to be edgy. Nope, I just don't buy it.

And Rome is third? Third behind Florence and Bangkok. Florence I can understand. It's the cradle of the Renaissance for goodness sake, and for art lovers it doesn't get much better. (I was obsessed with Florence when I was an adolescent but that is a story for another post.) But still (and I may be slightly biased here) it doesn't hold a candle to Rome. No city does, in my opinion. I mean this is a city where you can see SIX Caravaggio paintings for free! Where churches that, in almost any other city would be the number one tourist attraction, are not even touched on by the average tourist because there are too many other things to see. There are ancient ruins just lying about on the street because there's no room for them in any of the city's dozens of museums.

If Rome had come in 10th behind, let's say, New York, London, Sydney, San Francisco, Paris, Amsterdam, Prague, Stockholm and Buenos Aires, I would have been more okay with that, than with it coming in behind Bangkok.

But, hey, I could be wrong. Maybe I didn't see enough of Bangkok when I was there. If you know the city well, please comment and let me know what I missed.

All photos by author

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Are Italian women really unhappy?

An article in last Thursday’s Telegraph bearing this provocatively titled article has created a bit of a buzz among my expatriate friends here in Rome. So I'm here to ask the question: Are Italian women really the unhappiest in all of Europe?

Taking a closer look at the article reveals that the title is completely misleading. 4,000 women from 5 countries in Europe were surveyed. 5 countries: Britain, Germany, France, Spain and Italy. There are almost 50 countries in Europe (if you count the baby ones like San Marino and Liechtenstein) so a measly ten percent of those countries can hardly pretend to represent an entire continent. With less than 1,000 women in each country being surveyed, the study is far from representative. Then look at a keyword in the first paragraph: “housewives.” So the article should have been titled: “Based on a small study, Italian housewives are the unhappiest out of five western European countries.” But surely that would not have lured many readers.

Now I am not trying to downplay how difficult life can be for women in Italian society. There’s a long list of things Italian women have to complain about, from lack of benefits for working mothers, to lower salaries than their male colleagues, to sexual harassment and the explicit sexualization of women in the media. But this article makes it sound like the major cause of unhappiness for Italian women is all the fault of the unequal division of household chores.

Here are the statistics that baffled me the most: “Research has found that 70 percent of Italian men have never used an oven, while 95 percent have never emptied a washing machine.” What? Who were they surveying? 60 year-old men who live with their housewives and 25 year-olds still living at home with mamma? The Italian husbands I know, and I will start with my own, do more than their share of housework. The Maritino (as I am only too proud to boast) cooks at least as much as I do, washes the dishes, cleans, does laundry, and even irons my shirts! And he is not, as some have suggested, an exception. I have numerous girlfriends who are married to or living with Italian men, and they also seem eager to do their share of the housework. In fact, in most cases, it is the hubby doing all the cooking! (Let this not reflect poorly on the cooking skills of my fellow Anglo-Saxons.)

Then something dawned on me. My girlfriends and I have one thing in common: we are not Italian. Maybe that is where the change comes in. Then that got me to wondering: Did our Italian men pick us because they were already more open-minded and modern (and therefore more likely to pick a foreign woman), and thus naturally more inclined to shirk traditional gender roles? Or did we pick them in part because we as American/British/Canadian/Australian, etc. women would never put up with a man who was so blatantly sexist? Or is it even simpler? Do American (et al) women simply refuse to wait on a man hand and foot while our Italian counterparts are only too willing to take on the role of slave/supermom/martyr that they watched their own mothers fulfill?

Now, don’t get me wrong, I don’t have anything against Italian women, but at the risk of sounding like a victim-blamer, it does seem that they often bring this life of drudgery on themselves. In my own experience, I've seen Italian women regularly insist that no one give them a hand, and that goes doubly for males. They enable the stereotype of the Italian male who is coddled and slaved over, first by his mamma, then by his wife.

A few cases in point? I once met an ancient Italian lady walking to the bus stop in Trastevere. She was lugging a heavy duffle bag, so I offered to carry it for her. In the not-so-brief walk, (I was sweating under the massive burden) she revealed to me that she lived in Naples, and that she took the train up to Rome once a month to do her son’s laundry. Yes, she was taking the massive bag of soiled laundry of her 40 year-old son down to Naples to wash and bring back up to him, neatly pressed and folded. And he didn’t even give her a ride to the station! She had to take the bus, an 80 year-old feeble little signora! When I asked her why she did it, she beamed and said, she wanted to do it, it was an excuse to see her son more often. Now who is the crazy person in this story? The son who let his mother do this? Or the mother who more than willingly offered to do it? I ask you.

This is probably an extreme case, but certainly not unusual. I have noticed with my own beloved Suocerina (mother-in-law), that when someone is so consistently willing to bend over backward to please you, never letting you lift a finger to help, it’s quite easy to get used to. You often become complacent and forget even to offer to help, especially when you know your half-hearted attempt will be met by shouts of “Lascia! Faccio io!” (Leave it! I’ll do it!). Life just becomes too easy when Mammina (or Mogliettina, when the time comes) makes life so convenient. Why should a man offer to help when the women around him have always made it clear that to do so would be ridiculous?

I don’t think there is an easy answer to this, but it is certainly not as cut and dried as this article would have you believe. I'd love to hear your take, so please comment!

Update: This post caught the attention of a journalist for Italy's Il Fatto Quotidiano newspaper, who mentioned me (quite harshly) on the paper's blog. In this post I respond to her attack of me!

Photo sources: 1, 2, 3

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Perfezione e Vergogna

After a glorious May Day--a national holiday here--in which my passion and love for this country were at an all time high, Italy has once again caused my naive admiration to come crashing down to a new low. This morning I was enchanted. At five minutes to midnight, I am disillusioned.

My day started with a sunrise walk to San Pietro in Montorio. Gazing at my favorite view of Rome from Gianicolo Hill always makes my heart beat a little faster. Even the hundreth time.But seeing it at six am for the first time nearly took my breath away. Misty, with a soft purple glow, indistinct shapes and unexpected shadows. I kicked myself for not bringing a camera, but my simple one could never have captured it.

A few hours later, a bike ride in Villa Pamphilj with Theresa was enough to send me into raptures. The clean morning air, the umbrella pines, the apricot-colored garden roses which weren't there three days ago, the undeniable feeling of spring in the air. I'm sure I'm often taken for a tourist as I gape around me in delight, at things I see everyday. I just can't help it; I never seem to get enough. As we sped down the hill back to Trastevere and my favorite view came into sight, I breathed, "I love this city!" like the silly, enthusiastic girl that I unashamedly am.

If possible, the day got even better from there: a massive, exquisite lunch in the country with a bunch of friends. The kind of lunch that lasts for hours, with plate after plate of hearty, delicious food, bottle after bottle of wine that was made on the other side of the hill. The kind of lunch that cannot exist where I come from, because there, tables must be turned, and quickly--lazy Saturday or no. Here instead, the happy, sated diners relax in their chairs long after they have finished dessert and coffee and grappa, not just because they can't manage to stand, but because no one will be taking the table after them.

This was all followed, naturally, by a long walk in the countryside, with much feeding of donkeys, snapping of photos and general praising of this grand country we are all lucky enough to call home. This is how people are meant to live, we agreed. It was the quintessential, perfect Italian day.

About an hour ago, however, my delight with this perfect place was more than a little tarnished.

I live on a lovely, tree-lined street in the heart of Trastevere, that happens to be a rather busy thoroughfare, despite being relatively narrow. The street is also home to one of Rome's most important and prestigious restaurants. I used to love that I lived two doors down from such a famous institution, knowing that Jennifer Lopez, Robert Deniro or Leonardo di Caprio might be walking past my door. Now I am ashamed of it.

There is almost never anywhere to park in this neighborhood, so the patrons of this eatery are instructed to double park up and down the street. These cars are never ticketed or towed of course, who knows why? This often causes much frustration and parolacce to be uttered by the residents, but tonight it could have cost someone their life.

Around eleven pm, an ambulance became completely blocked as it tried to pass, sirens blaring. It seemed that the entire neighborhood, not just the big, bad, rich restaurant, was conspiring to make sure whoever was inside didn't make it to the hospital alive. Thanks to the line of double parked cars, there was only one usable lane, which was of course backed up with cars going the other direction. But no one wanted to pull over. In this country, only suckers pull over for ambulances. Clever drivers wait for others to pull over and then race ahead of the emergency vehicle.

Some traffic cops who happened to be nearby stood around stupidly, not able to grasp that in order to make the line of cars back up, they had to ask the one in back to move first. Ten long minutes ticked by (very long for whoever was inside) while no one thought to look for the drivers of the double-parked cars, and no space for the modestly-sized ambulance could be made. Only the scooters had room to pass, and they did so dexterously, weaving around the ambulance as it futilely tried to extricate itself. In the end, the driver was forced to turn around (with the help of a civilian guiding him) and drive back up the hill from whence he came.

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