A beautiful place.... for the Fiat and its many uses

In Italy, panorama viewing counted as a bonafide activity, as much as going to the theater or out to dinner. In fact, the question, "Vuoi andare a un bel posto?" -- Do you want to go to a beautiful place? -- was the Italian equivalent of the American boy's invitation to a drive-in movie.

No viewpoint was left unmobbed by groups of friends and pairs of lovers, especially on summer nights. Whereas the average American viewpoint might be surrounded by safety railings and interrupted with signs warning you not to get too close to the edge, and etched display boards narrating the view, the Italian scene featured clumps of viewers perched on a low parapet gesturing wildly while talking amongst themselves, and passionate couples on the verge of writhing themselves right over the wall.

On any night of the summer, the road up to a viewpoint was lined with cars. You had to park way down at the bottom of the hill and walk up. The first time I was walking up to one of these viewpoints with a group of friends past all the lined up Fiats, I noticed that many of the Fiats were wiggling. I mean visibly, unmistakably, hilariously wiggling. "Ragazzi. Ma queste macchine si muovono." (Hey look you guys. These cars are wiggling.)

Then I noticed that many of them had newspers taped over the windows. It turned out that even up here the scugnizzi had found a way to reel in a few lire. The scugnizzi (the gn is pronounced as in lasagne) were the street urchins of Naples, unschooled and uncorralled, running around everywhere fulfilling invented needs and holding out a dirty hand for coins. You could barely turn your head around Naples without seeing one. A tram would go by and there'd be one attached to the back of it like a tree frog, for a free ride. Out here on the hilltops they approached occupied parked cars with newspapers and tape in hand, selling the scarce commodity of privacy. In a culture where an apartment of one's own was hard to come by, people had to make do.

So those were the entrepreneurial scugnizzi. But then there were the bad scugnizzi -- doesn't every population have its rotten apples? A favorite stunt of the evil ones was to slink by in the darkness and light a match to the newspapers covering one of the wiggling Fiats -- causing the occupants, no doubt at the zenith of their wiggling, to come bursting out of their car in a semi-clothed panic to attack the flames with their cast off apparel or whatever was at hand.

Issues of delayed signage

The red birthday graffiti was gone already this morning when I rode in – which makes perfect sense, since the birthday’s over. But it was surprising, since most people lack follow-through when it comes to signage. Have you ever noticed that? Signs that advertise some event on a certain date often remain up long after the fact.

This is especially true of garage sale signs. People will nail signs up on every telephone pole with a big arrow pointing in the direction of the sale and then leave them there for weeks. Just last Sunday I was almost home from somewhere when I spotted such a sign. Though I was only two blocks from home and had resisted several garage sale signs already, when I saw this one I veered off to the right in the direction of the arrow. (You know how sometimes when you’re almost at your goal you feel like you can finally give in?) I pedaled three blocks out of my way to find absolutely nothing – six blocks, if you count the way back. This isn’t the first time I’ve fallen for this. Now I have regained my former skeptical outlook of not believing any of the signs.

If you must frequent garage sales, I recommend going by bike. Then you’ll be much less tempted to buy anything that would take up space in your house. I haven’t bought anything since last summer, when I bought a small portable typewriter, which unfortunately fit nattily into my bike basket. I now have five manual typewriters, every one of them in mint condition. I don’t know what more I can do other than wear a blindfold.

Wholesome graffiti goes a step further

Regarding my discovery of wholesome graffiti last week: Well now look – here’s some that’s not only wholesome, but REMOVABLE!! This is laid down in red tape. How considerate is that? Plus it’s written in an attractive typeface.

I don’t know about you, but I’m encouraged. I for one have been trying not to be such a crab. Maybe everyone else is working on this too.

Someone went to a lot of work to do this. Mick? are you there? What was that you were saying in your comment last time about a viral somethingruther marketing campaign? Is this some kind of advertising gimmick to reel in suckers like me who are out here desperately trying to believe the world is not getting rottener by the day? I hope I’m not being an utter fool. If this is marketing, what are they allegedly selling? Sidewalks? Birthday cakes? Bridges? I'm confused.

Graffitti becoming more wholesome

Here’s a bit of graffitti from the sidewalk on the north side of the main post office. I found it gratifying to see graffiti I could actually read, for once. I can never even begin to make out that bad-boy typeface that’s been in use by the graffiti people for the last decade or so. You know what I mean, the kind you see everywhere, especially all over the boxcars of freight trains. What’s the use of defacing public property with a message that 95% of the public can’t read? Besides being completely illegible, it’s usually unattractive.

At least this one doesn’t contain obscenities and has a clear simple message – though I could find no trace of any French bread anywhere in the vicinity, so once again I remain stymied. Maybe some day a person who can write legibly with a spray can will get together with another person who has something to say, and some kind of communication will occur.