Endless Italian Summer

Suddenly, it seems, the whole of Italy is on holidays. The papers are full of stories of transport strikes (Alitalia was on strike on Friday, as were a number of the train and tram services) and protest marches in Rome. Last year there were 2084 strikes. According to Libero, they’re customary at this time of the year and always hit the “hot spots” of the peninsula. On Friday, the front page story was headed Holiday Strikes: Hatred of the Unions  and details a long list of strikes to be expected between now and the beginning of August. Italians just shrug and say, “So that’s news?” It’s not that they’re happy about strikes, but as with most other things “ci arrangiamo” (we muddle through). As you can imagine, I’m a little anxious about getting to Rome on time next Thursdav and out to Leonardo da Vinci airport to catch a plane to Lesvos in Greece (given the current situation in Greece, the decision to actually go there also caused quite a bit of anxiety). Here in the north-west, summer arrived earlier than usual and the past month has been one long heatwave. The sticky heat has been almost unbearable and I feel I’m dripping all the time. Since school broke up a couple of weeks ago, I’ve seen scores of colourfully dressed children on their way to the outdoor pool. They’re kept in line by carers holding placards and issuing orders (well, that’s until they get to the pool). Locals say this extended period of heat is unusual and many are complaining of not being able to sleep at night, even with the fan going full blast. Some of my fellow students can’t fall asleep until it begins to cool down, usually about 4am, so there are quite a few zombies wandering around. Only a handful of places are air-conditioned and breezes are rare. True to the meaning of its name, Piedmont (‘foot of the  mountains’) is surrounded by mountains which means the air often gets trapped and the surrounding valleys and hills are thick with heat haze. I’ve been avoiding the outdoor pool (open only in summer) and going instead to the indoor one. It’s such a relief to slip into the cool silky water and feel my body cool down right down to the core. Today only one other person was doing laps. For me, it’s an ethereal space, not just quieter, but also cooler than the outdoor pool because it’s protected from the sun. On the walk home along the leafy Madonna dei Fiori is one of Bra’s best gelato outlet, Gelateria Fior di…Panna. Occasionally I stop by and buy a lemon granita or a hazelnut and  coffee gelato (£2) which drips down my arm as I continue my walk home, despite the paper napkin wrapped around the cone. For lunch during the week, the mensa (Uni canteen) has been offering chilled melon for dessert. Esther Passafiume, one of the girls in my class from Taranto in Puglia, was sent some melons (a cross between a honeydew melon and a cucumber called pagnotelle) by her family, and when she cut into one at the table and removed its seeds, it smelt like summer. I wish we grew them in Australia. In class over the past week, we’ve had a series of wine tasting classes, many of which were full-bodied reds from the famous wine-growing areas of Barolo and Barbaresco, not far from Pollenzo in the Langhe. It was crazy in this heat, to be sampling these powerful, dry, tannic wines especially without food. Italians never drink without having something to eat at the same time, hence the famous aperitivo. These big, astringent, reds are not only much better with food, but are better appreciated in winter with traditional dishes pasta dishes such as tajarin and plin when the mountains around Piedmont are cloaked in snow. Last weekend Barolo staged its annual Collisioni  (orAgriRock) Festival.  Sting and Mark Knopfler were among the drawcards, as was the Italian singer-songwriter Anotnello Venditti who drew a big crowd  to his talk under the tent in the main piazza of Barolo. The theme of the event was Mesaggi in Bottiglia (messages in a bottle) and Venditti’s left-wing messages were appreciated by the mixed crowd (“young people always seek justice and I am with them”). At the first event I attended on Saturday morning, a tete a tete with Italian wine producers and how to help them understand approach the U.S. wine market, I was astonished to find that only a handful of Italian producers turned up, most of them late. Yet Stevie Kim, the dynamic managing director of VinItaly, was there, as was Cathy Darrup Huyghe, a switched-on journalist for Forbes online magazine. They both pointed out that the U.S. is a fragmented, difficult market. Huyghe emphasised the importance of social media (“it pains me not to see more of an Italian presence online”) and how wineries can interact with Apps. while Kim talked about the interest of 20 – 30-somethings in organic and biodynamic wines and how they access online information from friends –  that’s if they’ re drinking wine. “What wine pairs with pizza? That’s the most common question asked in the U.S.”, said Kim. “And in Italy young people are drinking cocktails and beer because they associate wine with oldies.” This was apparent at a few of the celebrations held during the week at the Gastronomic Society (the Uni ’s social hub) in Bra. At Angie Anglesio’s Argentinian BBQ on Wednesday night, the beer (Buenos Ayres) made by her partner Pato Bergomi was freely flowing. And on Friday night, (the last night before the holidays for most students), at the dinner held to celebrate summer produce from the garden, many of the young people chose wine over beer. An interesting new phenomenon which must have many traditional winemakers shaking in their boots. So now it’s off to the sea for many – though the way Italians spend their time at the sea is a mystery to me. Most never venture into the water, and if they do, they swim about ten metres then stop and gossip with others standing around in the water about the best restaurants in the area and whether the fish or octopus is still good there (most of the the women don’t like to get their coiffured hair wet). Most prefer to lie and roast on the hot pebbles under their umbrellas, crowded together like sardines – that’s if the flyboards aren’t annoying you with their antics. Not quite my idea of a blissful summer.