Buddha Travel

There is no way to happiness: happiness is the way.

-Buddha

Anarchia in Piemonte

A family of lights
gathered over there

where you took me
south of the city

We came to Vercelli, your hometown--
only fields of rice and knobby trees

Then walked la galleria, Porta Nuova to Porta Susa
as dry as kings in the rain.
The new way is the old way again, you said, just with a different face--
neofascismo
We left our safety, and out of 1000, 100 came into the street
It rained on those hundred, of which we were two.

But later, Inside, the bar was warm, a large oven,
the ceiling a well laid arch above us, and at
crossroads of conversation, words gave us spring,
rising over our
heads like steam, wrapping us.

Rice silos, rice beer
To return to la tera--
The new way, you said, is the old way all over again.

When we arrived to the place we were going--
and whether it was the top of the mountain
or the confluence of the two rivers--
You gathered our thoughts together and held open the palm of your
hand.

You said, They are out there, making a pilgrimage to
Predappio, learning nothing, getting ready for the war.

You held open the palm of your hand.

Street language and language

In New York, people avoid eye contact and flesh contact at all costs, leaping over open sewers and small dogs, in stillettos, in the rain. French citizens are also practiced in the art of not-encounters, but they do it by walking into one another. No one yields the sidewalk, and everyone gets by. The Italians are in the same camp as the French, but they take it to another level. In fact, they are so adept at collision that they stop just short of kissing you in the street and then inviting you for a coffee.

Italy is less efficient than France (trains, planes, politicians), and at least at first glance, less hostile and rigid. For example, if you attempt to speak French to a French person, they respond in English rather than listen to you butcher their language, even though they detest speaking English. (Americans are the same as the French, by the way, but because most of us can't speak other languages, not to mention our own, we're forced to accept other versions of English). Italians, however, are very supportive of foreigners. They look amused and are full of smiles, and answer in Italian, annuciating clearly. Also hand gestures are a wonderful aid in learning Italian. One doesn't need to know all the words to get the meaning. Italy is a great place to kick an introvert out of her shell. You have to speak boldly, you can't be shy when speaking Italian, or you sound and look more ridiculous than you already are.

I said Italy is less efficient than France, but there is one fabulous exception: eateries. In France you have to keep pestering your waiter, you have to worry about him (not coming back, being rude, bringing the wrong dish). But if there is one word for Italian eateries besides delicious, it's efficient.

France has a few things on Italy, however. You cannot get hot chocolate (or chocolata calda or chocolat chaud) in morning or evening in Italy. It's only an afternoon drink, and they don't make it like they do in France. I had one today and I drank my death (heated chocolate syrup). France also has...hmm, no, on second thought good chocolat chaud is all they've got.