It’s nothing personal


Why oh why did the temperature turn colder as soon as I left Mama’s cozy (albeit dusty) apartment?

Coco and I have returned to our humble ice-block on the hill and once again I’ve got the oven door wide open to warm up all 30 square meters of space. I’m pretty sure that if she didn’t drive me quite so crazy (today she decided to follow me from room to room), I would have been tempted to stay until Spring! She even asked me if I would consider leaving Coco with her! Of course this was not up for negotiation. Secretly, I know she just wants her and I happen to come with the deal.

Yesterday I experienced the full-on Italian culture at it’s best. You see, nothing seems too “personal” here. There is no such thing as privacy and everyone seems to think it is their business to know your business. Let me explain. You see, I have got this rotten cold sore on my chin and it doesn’t want to go away. It has appeared twice in one month and frankly I’ve had enough!

Sunday morning I hopped in the car and drove to the nearest open pharmacy to buy some “cold sore cream”. That’s when it got interesting…before the pharmacist finished with the person ahead of me she yelled over her head to ask me what I needed. The problem is cold sore translates to herpes and when I said this all the old ladies turned around to look at me! I was half tempted to carry on and ask for hemorrhoid cream and condoms just to get a rise out of the old gips.

But the fun didn’t stop there because when I got back to Mama’s I got the Spanish inquisition, where was I and why? After much discussion I figured the subject was closed. But I couldn’t have been more wrong. Three uncles and 2 aunts came over for lunch and so they were also brought into the conversation! Wow, I didn’t know that a cold sore could captivate so many people on a rainy Sunday. Hey, Coco, have you got space for me in your rabbit hole?

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About lmarmstrong66

I'm a blogger, painter, writer, singer. For the love of all things in nature and creativity.
This entry was posted in Italian Culture, Mama. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to It’s nothing personal

  1. I especially love the “check out chat” at the supermarket. Instead of the line moving along, there’s always a couple of busy bodies who won’t leave the end of the checkout cos they want to chat with everyone. I dread it every time, especially with a baby in tow (she’s like a magnet for old ladies).

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