We men here, while here, Foggians do not butt heads very often. Why? Because greeting each other and salutation egress are initiated with cheek to cheek kisses. Such non-homophobic gestures require humility and genuflect. I think it is a smoother lifestyle, and small barrier to cross to be amongst in-laws.
Foggian
homes with walls thick and natural circulation a must, have clothes hung outside the windows, no matter what one's status. Standi Panni is the name for the garments bearding the window sills every afternoon all over town. It is all California wants to be: Roman, cultured, prejudiced, and beautiful in mindful manners, and hard talk, and weather.
But Foggian is the real thing. What you see is what you get, unless you learn the cheek to cheek. Once you are accepted, you are allowed to sit with the women in their houses, and laces of Foggian cultural ambiguity are revealed to the stranger. My children would have had a better toddler stage had I known their southern Adriatic valley origins, and genetic coding thanks to Foggian natural selection.
Oh, yes, Foggian is also a dialect of southern Italy. I cannot understand a word of it. It is spoken in telling jokes around the grappa near midnight. But it is so distinct it is recogn
ized as the "redneck agriculture" speech and loathed by the hoity-toity wannabes. So I can relate to the prejudice of a regional twang, or oohh in this case.
Today one lives in a sort of two block square compound as if in a single family dwelling. We stayed part way in this compound domicile and part-time in a highrise. Most apartments are stacked in block housing array, originating from Brutalism Architecture; you know, like le Courbusier, back when? Just google Brutalism.
As
the evening breezes filter through the garden of the compound, gates are locked, security systems are turned on, and the lock down is akin to, well, you know, clang-clang. But real fear of burglary warrants the night time incarceration. However, as the time difference caused me to awake at 2:30 AM my first morning, I found myself pacing the floor. Outside wild dogs howled, and the half-moon cast dreamy light on the terrace garden below, now unavailable to me.
Bedtime became the darndest event at the compound, as strict mindful Foggian culture sought safety in bedrooms; each evening collapsed inward to beds made in pearl dust and cotton; pillows covered with slips that hung and drip-dried in Foggian afternoons all that day.
More is later. >>pd
Foggian
homes with walls thick and natural circulation a must, have clothes hung outside the windows, no matter what one's status. Standi Panni is the name for the garments bearding the window sills every afternoon all over town. It is all California wants to be: Roman, cultured, prejudiced, and beautiful in mindful manners, and hard talk, and weather.But Foggian is the real thing. What you see is what you get, unless you learn the cheek to cheek. Once you are accepted, you are allowed to sit with the women in their houses, and laces of Foggian cultural ambiguity are revealed to the stranger. My children would have had a better toddler stage had I known their southern Adriatic valley origins, and genetic coding thanks to Foggian natural selection.
Oh, yes, Foggian is also a dialect of southern Italy. I cannot understand a word of it. It is spoken in telling jokes around the grappa near midnight. But it is so distinct it is recogn
ized as the "redneck agriculture" speech and loathed by the hoity-toity wannabes. So I can relate to the prejudice of a regional twang, or oohh in this case.Today one lives in a sort of two block square compound as if in a single family dwelling. We stayed part way in this compound domicile and part-time in a highrise. Most apartments are stacked in block housing array, originating from Brutalism Architecture; you know, like le Courbusier, back when? Just google Brutalism.
As
the evening breezes filter through the garden of the compound, gates are locked, security systems are turned on, and the lock down is akin to, well, you know, clang-clang. But real fear of burglary warrants the night time incarceration. However, as the time difference caused me to awake at 2:30 AM my first morning, I found myself pacing the floor. Outside wild dogs howled, and the half-moon cast dreamy light on the terrace garden below, now unavailable to me.Bedtime became the darndest event at the compound, as strict mindful Foggian culture sought safety in bedrooms; each evening collapsed inward to beds made in pearl dust and cotton; pillows covered with slips that hung and drip-dried in Foggian afternoons all that day.
More is later. >>pd
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