Newsgroup: it.politica.internazionale
Titolo: del vestirsi brit v. il coprirsi italiano

How to avoid getting 'hit by air' in Italy
 
By Dany Mitzman Bologna, Italy
 
Many Italians, it seems, are prone to a particularly wide range of
winter illnesses, helped apparently by an in-depth knowledge of human
anatomy.
More than a decade living in this country has led me to a shocking
conclusion. Being Italian is bad for your health.
As winter draws in, those around me are suffering from a range of
distinctly Italian ailments, that make our limited British colds and
flus sound as bland as our food.
As I cycle around the medieval streets of my adoptive home town of
Bologna, I smile to myself, marvelling at the fact that I am still
wearing a light-weight jacket at this time of year.
No translation
My Italian counterparts are less fortunate.
They have their woolly scarves and quilted coats out and are rubbing
their necks, complaining of my favourite mystery Italian malady "la
cervicale".
"Soffro di cervicale (I suffer from cervicale)," they tell me, making
it sound particularly serious.
Most people over the age of 30 seem to have the condition, but I am
still at a loss as to what exactly it is and how to translate it.
I have looked it up in the dictionary and found "cervical" - an
adjective referring to the cervical vertebrae, those little bones in
the back of your neck - but as an ailment, there is simply no English
translation. We do not have it!
The British also do not seem to have the sort of exceptional knowledge
of their own anatomy which Italians have.
Benefits of ignorance
Soon after I moved here, I remember a friend telling me he was not
feeling very well. "My liver hurts," he said.
I have since been assured by doctors that you cannot actually feel
your liver, but what really struck me was the fact that he knew where
his liver was.
We British, in contrast, are a nation staggeringly ignorant of our
anatomy.
Italians can also tell you if the pain is in their stomach or
intestine - and can even specify whether it is colic or colitis - but
to us it is all just "tummy ache".
Yet although I should feel embarrassed about my inability to point out
the exact location of my gall bladder, I am not.
Why? Because I think it makes me healthier.
After years of first-hand experience of the delicate Italian
constitution, I have come up with a theory about why we British are so
much sturdier. If you cannot name it, you cannot suffer from it. If
you do not know where it is, it cannot hurt you.
Among my Italian friends I am considered something of an immuno-
superhuman.
I can leave the gym sweaty to have my shower at home and not catch a
chill en route. I can swim after eating and not get congestion or
cramp. I can walk around with wet hair and not get "la cervicale".
I even brag about it. At restaurants I will say: "Let me sit in the
draught. I'll be fine. I'm English."
'Mustn't grumble'
I ran my theory past a Sicilian psychoanalyst and he said I had a
point.
For example, the British do not have a term for a "colpo d'aria". It
literally translates as a "hit of air" and seems to be incredibly
dangerous for Italians.
They can get one in their eye, their ear, their head or any part of
their abdomen.
To avoid getting a colpo d'aria, until at least April, they must never
go out without wearing a woollen vest, known as a "maglia della
salute" (a shirt of health).
British mums hold their kids' jackets so they will not get hot and
sweaty while they run around and play. In contrast, the parks here in
Italy are filled with pint-sized, quilted Michelin men, zipped up to
their noses to stop the air getting in and hitting them.
Italians are brought up to be afraid of these health risks, while our
ignorance of their very existence makes us strong and fearless.
It is a question of etiquette too.
We are a nation that "mustn't grumble", trained from an early age that
the only answer to "How are you?" is "Fine, thank you."
Our vocabulary reflects this. Whether we have had a cold or spent six
weeks in intensive care, we will tell you we have been "a bit poorly".
'Change of season'
But last week I experienced a moment of panic. I woke up feeling weak
and nauseous.
What if that cultural difference was actually contagious?
What if years in the country had changed my constitution and I too was
suffering from another common Italian health hazard, "the change of
season"?
I tried to convince myself that lack of sleep was to blame, but I was
not certain.
Later that day, I bumped into a neighbour and confessed that I was
feeling "a bit poorly".
"Ooh," she said, looking concerned. "I went to the doctor yesterday
and he told me there's a 48-hour stomach flu going around."
Then her face brightened up. "But don't worry, you're English so it'll
only last 24 hours for you!"
And suddenly - superhuman status restored - I felt a whole lot bette

 And suddenly - superhuman status restored - I felt a whole lot bette
 
qualcuno mostri a superman le statistiche sulla speranza di vita in
Italia e in brittland...


la risposta italiana e' meglio - vedi alla voce bidet.