(Observations from the road May 22, 2015)
Now that I am in Italy with not the strongest skill in the native language and cultural habits, I am having a curious time “reading” non-verbal language from the locals. My natural style around others is to observe how people talk and present themselves. Also, my empathic radar is keeping things interesting. What’s going on? What’s obvious and what’s the undertone? A spiritual friend has commented that my field of awareness tends to be wide. I let people alone and don’t get into their space. It doesn’t come from any connection to a particular divinity. My instincts are more refined while in the natural world.
As I am traveling solo here, it does matter that I pay attention to my environment for safety. The guidebooks said the crime rate is quite low in Italy. Mostly, I feel okay and strong as I move around in different places in Sicily. My daily routine is to be out in daylight hours and home by dinnertime. The night life is not an attraction. I want to be here, so I could be naïve about what could happen. I don’t feel afraid most of the time.
Perhaps it’s the urban comfort zone coming out, I was raised in Worcester MA, a fairly large gateway city. The kids next door had a unique heritage, their grandmother on the father’s side came from Assyria. Their father had a heavy accent, I don’t know for sure but he could have been born abroad. Assyria hasn’t been a country for several hundred years. But, I can recall being corrected when I said Syria. No, Assyria. Just because it’s now off the map, doesn’t mean the descendants disappeared too.
As a kid, I loved visiting the public library and had to get there on my own most of the time. By the time I was ten, I walked or took the city bus downtown. As we traveled along picking up passengers, the language changed by the block, Polish or Lithuanian was common in my neighborhood. A little further along, kids got on board speaking Greek, and down the hill Spanish was spoken. In another section of the city, it would be Lebanese or Armenian. This mix, on the bus, in the market or in the classroom, was normal. The markets on Water Street served both Jewish and Polish tastes.
I used to walk home from grade school too. Up two big hills past the local hospital and down a busy road. Sometimes I had company, but other times not. I guess it’s not a surprise that by the time I got to attend college I majored in international and comparative studies. I am drawn to other ways of life and like to be around people who are foreign born. It feels natural.
What I understand about nonverbal language is through education, observation and inquiry. People generally read others’ gestures, posture, expression and even notice their scent before attempting to make a connection. The senses and instincts are used in every way to find out if it is safe to approach a stranger or even a friend.
Being with people from a different culture will bring so many chances for miscues. A greeting can get muddled in a split second. What seems brash and loud to one, is bashful and modest to another. Bring in a layer of ego and the moment can become even more complicated. Bring in gender, age, education and it is getting deeper into the potential for confusion. So, having been a few days in Sicily, I am becoming aware of what I perceive to be normal habits over here.
Guidebooks and travel message boards about Italy mention a difference in how folks here stand in line. In the United States, it is common for people to form a queue and stay in it. People can get quite cross when an attempt is made to cut the line. A comment may be made about the behavior being boorish and unfair. In general, it is also an expectation that people will go the way of the road when walking along a busy sidewalk. Meaning left shoulder to left shoulder like a car drives. In Sicily, there appears to be no concept of a line anywhere. As happened at the airport when it was time to board the connecting flight, people just started walking all at once. There is an occasional roping off to attempt to channel people in one direction, but that is just one more thing to pass through.
The annual May Flower Festival in the City of Noto happens the second week of the month. The festival attracts thousands of people to the city. It was here that I learned how to move with the crowd. How to move with the herd, so to speak. Here, I never feel as though someone is trying to cut me off. Americans can be competitive and have to get there first. Sicilians appear to not see each other as something to get around or react to. In a crowd, a person is not in the way, nor are others ever in the way. Nobody pushes, there is hardly even a sensation of someone touching you, yet people will sort of walk right up on you and keep walking. It is not that I have to back off or get out-of-the-way. No, somehow we walked by each other but nobody seemed to yield. Everybody moves in their own direction whenever, wherever and however they want. People pick a path and stick to it, no stepping aside necessary.
By the time the official ceremonies at the festival ended, I had been completely immersed in a local holiday crowd for hours. I only heard one or two other English speaking people the entire day. I figured out how to navigate mostly by observation and following the person in front of me. I call it; the melt.
There may be a different reference point in Sicilians to personal space. Some Americans can have a wide circumference and will become agitated if others get too close. The space can be their body, car, home, desk or even significant others. A glaring eye gesture may be given to warn the other person they are too close. In my personal experience, some Americans tend to also have a high need to be recognized in public. This comment could be called over generalizing, but the behaviorisms seem extraverted. It really can feel like all about “me” most of the time. Are you seeing me, are you accepting me or are you ignoring me? Sicilians, at least in my experience, didn’t exhibit this at all. Their personal energy seems secure and confident in public.
It was fascinating to watch people try to find a comfortable place to stand to view the grand promenade, dancing and musical performances on Vittorio Emanuele Boulevard in front of the Town Hall. The beautiful sun-bleached sandstone steps leading to Church of the Savior, Chiesa San Salvatore, opposite the main viewing area do not offer the best viewing. The steps are wide, an average sized adult has to take a step up, walk straight four steps, step up and so on until the top. Maybe they were designed to accommodate crowds. If everyone is sitting down, the view is still blocked. I watched and joined in trying to find the best spot to see this spectacle celebrating the Baroque tradition of Noto.
I didn’t notice anyone react with impatience. If a person wants to move, just do it. There can be people six deep; the stair is not even visible so just say, Permesso; May I Pass. Nobody will look at you, nobody will shift out of the way, but somehow, the person melts into the crowd and goes by. Everybody heard you but nobody is acknowledging it. At least, not in a discernible way I expect. It is possible that permission is granted, it is just so subtle I miss the cue.
A couple came along with a baby carriage. A decision was made to go to the street level so they headed straight towards the staircase. I thought, how does he get the carriage down one-step? It was a wide pram style thing. There are people crowding everywhere. No problem. As he reached the point of no return, the guy ahead of them turned slightly but never looked back, reached his hand down and picked up the front of the carriage and they went down the stairs safely with the baby. Nobody said a word, nobody looked at each other, nobody said thanks, it just happened.
Sicilians do not appear to look directly at others. However, do not think they do not see you. It only seems so. I think Sicilians have a great ability to see peripherally without shifting the head or the eyes. They don’t stare. Even the cats do it. The stray cat I feed every night back home looks right at me. In fact, he’s a bold scruffy dude who hangs around the front steps until his meal is put in front of him. There was one exception here in Sicily, it being a calico in the old city of Ragusa Ibla, all the others have the same manner of looking but not looking at you. They know you are there. Their body is facing you, the head can even turn very slightly in your direction; the eyes do not open. It happened the first night in Taormina and also walking around Noto.
Actually, it’s kind of refreshing not being able to make casual conversation. It takes a lot of energy to talk and I am not intending to get friendly enough to have but the most common of conversations with people here. My lack of skill with the Italian language is part of the reasoning. But, it’s nice to just stop talking for a while.
A guy did approach me on the street during the festival in Noto and tried to start a conversation. He figured out I spoke English and said he was from Catania and wanted to practice his language skills. No, that didn’t feel right. The guidebooks did mention this type of encounter could happen to solo women and said that man is the one to get rid of quickly. Do not return even a comment was the advice, unless you feel ready for a challenge on how to get him to go away. Sicilian men may have some of their own beliefs about foreigners, especially women that they are trying out. It is okay, just say no.
The takeaway from being in this environment is a new way to be safe. My own sense of esteem may be stronger at taking care of me better then I realize. But, this style of moving with the crowd I like. Be in the crowd but not swayed by it. Stand alone in the middle of the crowd. Stand your ground without raising a finger. And, that was my day in Sicily.
LuceStellare 